


The Lion and the Bear

by notallbees



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Time, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27982743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallbees
Summary: Sylvain ran his gaze over Dimitri and laughed under his breath. "You've grown again.""Not on purpose," Dimitri said, and smiled when his words made Sylvain laugh. "I am so glad you've come. How was your journey? Will you be staying long?"Sylvain grinned, holding up his hands in surrender. "One question at a time, lad," he said, then paused and glanced around them. "Forgive my manners," he said, taking a step back so that he could offer Dimitri a subtle bow, inclining his head and shoulders. "Your Royal Highness."AU in which Sylvain, Felix and Ingrid all grew up with King Lambert, and have dedicated their lives to raising and protecting the young prince after Lambert's death.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 28
Kudos: 113





	The Lion and the Bear

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by some wonderful artwork by Frog. Check that out [here](https://twitter.com/oversized_frog/status/1332162200161677312) and [here](https://twitter.com/oversized_frog/status/1332161436278280194) (nsfw image).
> 
> They also created some beautiful pieces to accompany this story, please go look at them 

The sun had barely risen over Fhirdiad, but the brisk sounds of a heated bout already arose from the palace training grounds. Dimitri ducked and wove, trying to fend off his opponent's punishing blows. Despite the bitter cold, sweat ran down his face and neck, and stung his eyes.

"You're sloppy," Felix growled at him when Dimitri fumbled a feint to the left. He stepped back, lifting his weapon to prepare for another strike. "Focus."

Dimitri nodded, and wiped his sweaty face on his forearm. Felix had trained him since he was young, and had always been strict and unforgiving in the demands he made of his student. "Sorry, Felix."

Felix scowled at him. "Don't be sorry, be better." 

Before Dimitri could reply, Felix swung at him again, and Dimitri brought his practice sword up to block the strike. The impact of it shuddered down his arm to his shoulder, and he grimaced as he fought to keep his stance under the force of Felix's blow. 

"Is brute strength all you have to offer me?" Felix asked, and in a flash he withdrew his sword and struck again, and then again, swiping at Dimitri with a flurry of strikes that he struggled to counter. Finally, Felix struck him a blow to the chest that made him stagger and cry out, then sent him to his knees with a well placed kick. 

Dimitri fell to his hands and knees, one hand clutching his ribs where Felix had struck him, gasping for breath.

Above him, Felix clicked his tongue impatiently. "Are you injured?"

"N-no," Dimitri gasped, fumbling for his sword. "I can still fight."

"Too late," Felix said, kicking Dimitri's fallen sword out of his reach. "Do you think an enemy will hesitate to deal the killing blow?"

Dimitri shook his head. "Sorry—Felix—"

Felix sighed. He reached down for Dimitri's wrist and hauled him to his feet. "Can you stand, Highness?"

"Yes," Dimitri said weakly, and clutched his ribs again with a grimace. "I am sorry. I will fight better tomorrow."

"We'll see tomorrow," Felix said lightly, taking Dimitri's elbow. "Let's get you to the healer."

Dimitri winced. Such treatment was as gentle as Felix ever got, and it usually meant that Dimitri had disappointed him. Hanging his head, he nodded his assent, and allowed Felix to lead him back into the palace. The healer seemed displeased, but clearly not surprised at having been woken at such an early hour. Such treatments were not uncommon when Dimitri had been training with Felix, which he had been doing more often in anticipation of attending Garreg Mach in the spring. 

Felix left him in the healer's care and went back to the training grounds, leaving Dimitri to brood over the truncated lesson, working through each mistake in his mind and censuring himself for his poor concentration. 

"Is something troubling you, Your Highness?" the healer asked, once he'd finished spreading a cooling salve over Dimitri's ribs to help aid their healing. 

Dimitri looked up sharply. "No, I—" He grimaced. "I have not been sleeping well. I don't suppose...is there something you could provide to aid with that?"

The healer frowned. "What prevents you from sleeping, Highness?"

"I—nothing," Dimitri said, looking askance. "I merely have difficulty falling asleep some nights."

"Perhaps a calming draught," the healer said thoughtfully, then nodded. "Leave it to me, Your Highness. I shall prepare something."

"Thank you," Dimitri said meekly, getting to his feet. "And please accept my apologies again for disturbing you."

The healer waved off his apologies, and Dimitri made his way wearily to his rooms. He asked one of his servants to have a bath drawn for him in an hour or so, then he crawled back into bed and lay down, trying to keep still so as to avoid jarring his cracked ribs. The discomfort kept him from sleeping, but he dozed fitfully for a while, and was finally awakened roused in the latter part of the morning by a servant bringing him a late breakfast. 

While he slept, Dimitri's servants had prepared a bath for him, and once he had eaten, he undressed with difficulty and sank into the hot water. Fortunately the healer had given him more of the salve to refresh the dressing on his chest, so he disregarded that for the moment and tried to relax. 

—

In the afternoon, Dimitri met his private tutor in the library for one of their weekly lessons, though he found it more difficult than usual to focus on his studies. His distraction was due in part to his restless night, and partly to the anticipation of a guest whose arrival was expected that day. Still, he did his best to pay attention to his lesson, and when his tutor finally released him without scolding him too badly, Dimitri went directly to the stables in the hopes of seeking a little respite in riding his horse. 

There was a simple joy in riding that helped to calm Dimitri's anxious thoughts, and he was feeling refreshed by the time he returned to the stables. As he led his mare back to her stall, he passed a large, bay gelding with familiar tack. The creature wasn't wearing palace colours, and Dimitri's eyes widened as he realised who it belonged to. He turned on the spot, trying to find the horse's owner, but the man was nowhere to be seen. 

Finally, just as he'd determined to go searching, a voice called out to him. "Your Highness!" 

"Sylvain!" Dimitri cried, turning toward him with a smile, and lifting his hand to wave. 

Sylvain waved back, laughing, and began to cross the courtyard toward him. As they approached one another, Sylvain opened his arms, and Dimitri abandoned any pretence of politeness and ran the few remaining steps between them, flinging his arms around Sylvain's neck. Sylvain embraced him tightly, lifting him off the ground for several moments in his enthusiasm.

Dimitri had forgotten his injury until that moment, but Sylvain's exuberant greeting was a painful reminder, stealing the breath from him. 

"It's good to see you, little cub," Sylvain murmured, before setting him down and drawing back to clasp his shoulders tightly. His soft brows creased with concern. "What is it? Have I hurt you?"

"No," Dimitri said, shaking his head and trying to smile through his grimace. "I was a poor student this morning, I bear the punishment for my failings."

Sylvain's expression darkened. "Felix is still training you hard, I see," he murmured.

"As my father would have wanted," Dimitri said, lifting his chin. 

"Perhaps," Sylvain agreed, his face softening, eyes crinkling as his smile returned. He ran his gaze over Dimitri and laughed under his breath. "You've grown again."

"Not on purpose," Dimitri said, and smiled when his words made Sylvain laugh. "I am so glad you've come. How was your journey? Will you be staying long?"

Sylvain grinned, holding up his hands in surrender. "One question at a time, lad," he said, then paused and glanced around them. "Forgive my manners," he said, taking a step back so that he could offer Dimitri a subtle bow, inclining his head and shoulders. "Your Royal Highness."

Dimitri huffed. "Sylvain, please," he said, half-fond and half-exasperated. "You needn't stand on ceremony with me. Especially when we both reek of sweat and manure."

To his delight, Sylvain gave a hearty laugh. "That's very reassuring, Your Highness." He grinned. "Perhaps you'd excuse me so that I can bathe before I present myself to the Regent."

"Let me walk you to your room," Dimitri suggested instead, unwilling to lose his companion so soon. Sylvain always occupied the same room when he visited the palace: a large, dour space close to Felix's quarters, so there was no need for Dimitri to show him where to go, but Sylvain made no protest at his company.

They talked of Sylvain's journey from his frigid northern territories, and Dimitri listened, rapt, as Sylvain described a recent foaling in his stables. 

Finally they parted ways at the door to Sylvain's chamber, with Sylvain promising to catch up with him more at dinner.

"And—" Dimitri added shyly, just before they parted. "How long will you stay?"

Sylvain smiled, and reached out to ruffle his hair. "Don't worry, cub. I wouldn't miss your birthday."

—

Dinner that evening was a dreary affair. Dimitri's uncle was entertaining several guests from Adrestia, and so Dimitri was forced to make conversation with them for the sake of politeness, and had no opportunity to speak with Sylvain. Instead, Dimitri watched from the corner of his eye as Sylvain caught up with Felix and Ingrid, both of whom he'd grown up with, and with whom he shared a bond that Dimitri could never hope to replicate. 

One of the guests was a daughter of the Srengi high chieftain, who had been seated near to Dimitri. His uncle seemed to have little desire in marrying him off, so Dimitri could only conclude that their proximity was an attempt to flatter the girl's father, who sat close to the head of the table, talking animatedly with Dimitri's uncle, while Sylvain provided his interpretation skills. 

"Your Highness?" 

Dimitri looked up as the chieftain's daughter addressed him, realising he'd become distracted. "My apologies," he said, smiling at her. "What is it?"

"I heard it will soon be your birthday, is it true?"

"Oh, yes," Dimitri answered with an awkward smile. "In six days."

She inclined her head apologetically. "We will return home before then. "May I wish you a happy day."

Dimitri stared at her for a moment, unsure what to say. "Thank you," he said at last, his manners rescuing him from the awkward situation. "When is your birthday?"

To his surprise, she blushed and looked down at the table. "Forgive me, Your Highness."

"O-of course," Dimitri said, inwardly panicking as he realised that he must have said something wrong. "I hope I have not offended you."

But the girl would only shake her head, and avoided meeting his eyes for the remainder of the meal. Dimitri was relieved when it finally drew to a close, and his uncle retired to another room with his guests to drink and talk in private. Dimitri tried to catch Sylvain's eye, but just as their gazes met, Dimitri's uncle slapped Sylvain on the shoulder and asked him to join them so that he could continue to translate. 

Sylvain nodded, and gave Dimitri an apologetic smile before following the Regent. 

"Cheer up, Your Highness," Felix said, passing by Dimitri and clapping him firmly on the shoulder. "The Srengi are only here two more nights. You'll have him to yourself after that."

Dimitri's face warmed at the realisation that he'd been so transparent. "Thank you, Felix," he said stiffly. 

Felix snorted. "Come on, walk with me."

For a moment, Dimitri was certain that he must have misheard. As Dimitri's shield, Felix was often nearby, but preferred action to words, and had always encouraged Dimitri to solve his problems through his own strength or ingenuity. Such invitations were rare indeed, yet Felix seemed annoyed when he glanced back and found that Dimitri stood still, staring after him. 

"Well?" Felix asked, folding his arms. "Are you coming or not?"

Dimitri nodded, and hurried forward to join him. Together they passed out of the candlelit passageways and stepped out into the crisp night, having collected their heavy cloaks. It was a dark night, the moon hidden behind cloud, and Felix called up a simple candlelight spell as they paced the perimeter of the palace grounds. 

"You were getting on well with our guests," Felix observed finally. 

Dimitri winced. "I fear I said something inadvisable. I must ask Sylvain about it."

Felix laughed under his breath. "Oh dear. Not so well then."

Dimitri gave a forlorn shake of his head. 

"Worse things have happened I'm sure," Felix said brusquely. They walked a little further in silence, before Felix cleared his throat. "There's something I need to tell you."

Hearing those words, Dimitri's heart jumped into his throat. He'd sensed that there was more to this outing, if only thanks to Felix's characteristic reticence. "Has something happened?" he asked, trying not to sound panicked. 

Felix shook his head. "Don't lose your head," he scolded mildly. "The Regent has decided not to send you to Garreg Mach in the spring."

Dimitri's eyes widened. "What?" he cried. "But—but I have been working so hard! Have I done something wrong?"

"His Highness didn't consult me about the decision," Felix said, his bitter tone doing nothing to disguise his displeasure at the situation. "So don't go biting my hand off over it."

Dimitri hung his head. "I see. So I'm to stay here another year?"

Felix huffed. "So it would appear."

Dimitri bit his lip. "Do you know why?"

"Not a clue," Felix said shortly.

"Could you...speculate?"

Felix snorted. "Not without getting myself in trouble, I expect," he said wryly. He stopped walking then, turning to face Dimitri with a sigh. "Your uncle's motivations are...difficult for many of us to understand." He shook his head, his tone turning bitter and angry once more. "The King would never have—" Felix cut himself off with a frustrated sound, glaring off into the darkness for several moments before turning back to Dimitri. "Never think that you're alone here, Highness."

Dimitri's eyes stung. "Thank you, Felix," he whispered. 

"Alright then," Felix said, nodding. He turned back toward the palace. "Come on then. It's getting late."

—

Dimitri finally found his chance to speak with Sylvain the following day. Felix had excused him from his usual training session due to his healing ribs, and Sylvain found him as he was leading his horse out of the stables.

"Your Highness!" Sylvain called, jogging up to greet him. The sun shone on his red hair, making the weak sunlight seem warmer. 

Dimitri beamed at him. "Sylvain."

"May I join you?" Sylvain asked, reaching out to cup the mare's nose, and sliding his hand up to ruffle her forelock. "Or do you prefer to ride alone?"

"I should be very glad of company," Dimitri said. 

Sylvain smiled. "Then just give me a few minutes to saddle Felix."

Dimitri was unable to stifle an undignified snort. "I still cannot believe you named your horse that."

"Felix was furious," Sylvain agreed, laughing. He clapped Dimitri on the shoulder. "I won't be long."

They set out shortly after, riding out into the palace grounds, and then down into the city and out of the East gate. Dimitri sighed as the wilds unfolded before them, the rocky hills and pastures that characterised most of Faerghus territory. They spoke little until they were out in the hills, when they slowed their horses to a walk and drew alongside one another so that they could more easily converse.

"I'm sorry that we couldn't talk more last night," Sylvain offered, before Dimitri could think how to bring it up. "I would have sooner spent the evening catching up with you, but the Regent speaks only a smattering of Srengi, and Chief Begu speaks hardly any Fódlanic—"

"Sylvain, please," Dimitri said, waving a hand. "I really do understand."

Sylvain gave him a sheepish smile. "All the same. I don't want you to think I haven't looked forward to seeing you."

A pleased warmth filled Dimitri's chest, and his smile came easier in the wake of Sylvain's words. "Was it entertaining, talking with them?"

"Not particularly," Sylvain said with a sigh. He glanced over at Dimitri, smile turning sly. "What of you? The chief's daughter has some Fódlanic, doesn't she? How did you find her?"

Dimitri grimaced. "Actually, I—fear I must have said something wrong." At Sylvain's quizzical look, Dimitri explained, although he was horrified when he finished his tale and Sylvain began to laugh loudly. "What is it?" he asked, eyes widening. "What have I said?"

Sylvain shook his head, wiping his eyes on his wrist. "Sorry, Your Highness," he said, still grinning. "I should have warned you. Asking a Srengi girl about her birthday like that, you probably came across as though you were seeking to pursue her."

Dimitri stared back at him, aghast. "Please say that you are teasing me."

"I'm afraid not," Sylvain answered, still looking amused. "But it's not your fault, someone should have told you before you met her."

"Then—she thinks I want to marry her?" Dimitri asked, still appalled by his own mistake. 

Sylvain's mouth twisted. "Ah, well—not marry, necessarily. Any man seeking a bride, particularly a noble bride, would never go about it in such a...bold manner."

Dimitri closed his eyes, his face heating at Sylvain's implication. "Are you suggesting—I _propositioned_ her?" 

"I'm sure it's easily fixed," Sylvain said mildly.

"Oh, Saints," Dimitri moaned, covering his face with both hands. "Goddess forgive me, no wonder my uncle is cross with me."

Sylvain made a thoughtful sound. "Is he?"

Dimitri groaned, returning his hands to the reins and hoping Sylvain wouldn't take note of his red face. "Felix told me that my uncle refuses to send me to Garreg Mach next year. He says I must wait until I am seventeen."

"Ah," Sylvain said, wincing. "I did hear of that. I'm sorry, Mishka, I know you had your heart set on going this year."

"I fear that he must be punishing me," Dimitri said mournfully. He looked up at Sylvain, searching his face. "Do you think I have displeased him in some way?"

Sylvain didn't meet his gaze, but his eyes narrowed on the road ahead, jaw drawing tight. "I don't think so, no."

Dimitri frowned, recognising almost the same reaction he'd engendered in Felix the night before when mentioning his uncle. "Sylvain," he ventured. "Won't you tell me what it is?"

"Little cub," Sylvain said, sighing as he turned a weary smile in Dimitri's direction. I would tell you anything you asked of me, if it was in my power to do so."

"Then you do not know either," Dimitri sighed, shaking his head. 

"Oh? You've been talking to Felix then." Sylvain heaved a sigh. "What I can tell you is that Felix and Ingrid and I, we were devoted to your father, and we swore our lives to protect him, and you." He paused, the silence stretching out meaningfully. "The Regent...his wishes are not the same as your father's were."

"You mean...sending me to Garreg Mach?" Dimitri suggested. 

Sylvain's jaw tightened again. "Among other matters."

"Such as?"

But Sylvain was shaking his head. Then, turning a brisk smile in Dimitri's direction, he urged his horse into a trot. "It's nothing you need concern yourself with, Highness," he said, smiling. "Not on such a beautiful day."

"But—"

"Let's race to that thicket ahead," Sylvain called over his shoulder. "Fe could do with stretching his legs!" 

With a sigh of frustration, Dimitri urged his own mount in pursuit, and the two raced across the open farmland, their horses churning up the fallow fields, until they reached the thicket at the base of a hill. There was a frozen stream running there, so they stopped to let the horses refresh themselves, and Sylvain dismounted to take a drink himself. Dimitri jumped to the ground and watched Sylvain crouch on the bank, watched him break the ice for the horses to drink, and then draw off his glove to scoop a handful of the frigid water to his face. 

As he straightened up, Sylvain wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket, although droplets of water still clung to the coarse red hairs of his beard, and his full mouth glistened in the sunlight that shafted through the trees.

"Dimitri?"

Dimitri blinked, and, realising that he's been staring, dropped his gaze to the stream. "Is it as cold as it looks?" he asked.

Sylvain laughed. "Colder." He pulled his glove back on, then rubbed his hands together vigorously. "Though we're lucky that it's not completely frozen over yet. The river in the mountains at home will be frozen now until Lone Moon." He nodded to the river. "It's good though, even if it makes your teeth ache. Have a drink."

Nodding, Dimitri bent to drink as Sylvain had suggested, closing his eyes tightly at the shock of the icy cold water. 

"There's a pass through the mountains where you can see the waterfall," Sylvain continued as Dimitri drank. "Even that freezes in winter, when the river stops running, and the waterfall itself just hangs there, suspended."

"It must be quite a sight to behold," Dimitri said, shaking the water off his hands as he stood. 

Sylvain smiled at him. "I'll take you to see it some time, if you like."

"Oh," Dimitri sighed, returning his smile eagerly. "I should like that very much."

Sylvain laughed softly. "Are you sure? I can't recommend Gautier this time of year. Maybe you should visit in the summer instead."

"I don't mind the cold," Dimitri said, reaching out for his horse's reins. "Oh—not that I—I wasn't fishing for an invitation."

This time, Sylvain's laughter was full, echoing back from the nearby trees. "I know that," he said, smiling warmly at Dimitri. "But you're welcome anytime, you know that."

"Are you sure?" Dimitri asked, even as warmth spilled into his chest once more. 

Sylvain nodded. "Of course," he said, and reached out to ruffle Dimitri's hair. "My home is your home, cub." He walked over to collect Felix, who was grazing on some scrubby grass nearby. "Want to head back?"

"Alright," Dimitri agreed. 

—

To Dimitri's immense gratitude and relief, Sylvain smoothed over the miscommunication with the chieftain's daughter before the Srengi departed, and Dimitri was saved from the threat of either an unwanted marriage, or of dismantling the tentatively cordial relationship they'd developed with their neighbour. 

He'd just finished his lesson with his private tutor, and Sylvain had come to the library to bring him the news. Having risen from his seat at Sylvain's arrival, Dimitri sank into it gratefully with a sigh.

"Oh, thank you, Sylvain," he said, dropping his face into his hands. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here."

Laughing softly, Sylvain drew up the extra chair to the side of the table and sat astride it, folding his arms over the back of the seat. "No need to worry, Your Highness. You won't be marched off to the altar any time soon."

"That is a relief," Dimitri said, looking up at him with a sheepish smile. 

Sylvain turned to look out of the window at the falling dusk. It was only late afternoon, but the sky was a deep, vibrant orange as the sun began to sink below the horizon. The light threw Sylvain's features into sharp relief, and bronzed his hair and beard so that they looked like beaten brass.

"Sylvain," Dimitri said thoughtfully. "Is it true that _you_ were once engaged to be married?"

Sylvain turned to look at him. "Where did you hear that, Your Highness?"

Dimitri coloured faintly, but didn't turn away. "Is it true? I...was told that your betrothed passed away, before you could be wed."

"Ah." Sylvain smiled sadly. "That's half the story, I suppose. I had a good friend, and she died during the worst of the plague, but we were never engaged." 

"I'm terribly sorry," Dimitri said, hanging his head. "It must have been awful to lose someone close to you."

Sylvain nodded. "As I'm sure you know only too well, lad."

Dimitri glanced away, clenching his jaw tightly. "Yes."

After a moment, Sylvain reached out and laid a hand between Dimitri's shoulder blades, resting it against his back. "It never goes away," he said quietly. "But it gets easier."

Dimitri nodded wordlessly, remaining silent until he was able to compose himself, and trusted himself to speak once more without his voice breaking. Sylvain's hand was warm and firm, grounding him, and preventing him from becoming lost in his thoughts. "Then you...have never been engaged to anyone?"

Sylvain shook his head. "I was betrothed once, as a boy. But my father broke the engagement when it turned out the girl had been born without a crest."

"What?" Dimitri said, turning to look at him. "But...you have a crest, do you not?"

"Aye," Sylvain sighed. "I suspect it wasn't the real purpose for his change of heart. He was probably just being a snob."

"I see," Dimitri murmured, dropping his gaze to his hands. "I was betrothed too, before—" He paused, and shook his head. "My uncle broke the engagement when he assumed the regency. I'd never even met the girl I would have married."

"Perhaps you may still," Sylvain offered, seeming to interpret Dimitri's tone as regret for the lost opportunity. He slid his hand up and gave Dimitri's shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "Or doubtless some pretty young thing will catch your eye when you go to the officers' academy in the spring."

Dimitri huffed. "I do not think so."

Sylvain laughed. "Oh no?" He touched Dimitri's chin with his knuckle, tilting his face up gently. "Has someone already caught your eye, little cub?"

The weight of Sylvain's warm, conspiratorial gaze on him made heat rush to Dimitri's face, and he turned his head away sharply, half-frightened and half-angry. "I am not a child anymore, Sylvain."

Sylvain's hand slid from his shoulder. "No," he said softly. "You're not."

Dimitri regretted the loss of his touch at once, but he could think of no way to ask Sylvain to return it. Instead, he cleared his throat and rose. "I should get ready for dinner."

"Until this evening then, Your Highness," Sylvain said, rising and bowing to him. 

—

The next day saw the departure of the Srengi, to Dimitri's relief. He and Sylvain took their horses out again, and this time Felix joined them. The three went hiking up a nearby hill, to the ruined castle that stood a few miles outside the city limits. Dimitri hadn't visited there since he was a child, when his father had taken him and taught him about the place's history.

"Did you know that the ten elites used to gather here?" Dimitri said to Sylvain, as they climbed an old, worn stone staircase. "I wonder how many times our ancestors climbed this tower."

"Is that so, Highness?" Sylvain asked, faintly breathless as he climbed up behind Dimitri. 

"Is what so?" Felix called up from below. 

They crested the top of the dark stairs finally and came out upon the storm-weathered battlements. Dimitri went over to the wall, laying his hands upon the stone and gazing out at Fhirdiad sprawling below. 

"The Prince is telling us about how our ancestors used to meet here," Sylvain said, pausing at the top to catch his breath.

Felix huffed. "Do you know how many times we heard this story from His Majesty—?"

"I don't know what you mean, Felix," Sylvain said, giving him a puzzled look. "I've never heard it before." He gestured in Dimitri's direction. "Go on, Your Highness."

Dimitri rolled his eyes. "You're humouring me, Sylvain."

"No I'm not," Sylvain answered.

"Yes, he is," said Felix. 

Sylvain groaned. "Felix—"

"It's alright," Dimitri said, shaking his head. "I don't mind. I like knowing that he shared this place with you too." He turned to look out at the view once more. 

As he stood looking over the valley, Sylvain and Felix joined him, one on either side. With his latest growth spurt, Dimitri had just edged above Felix, but Sylvain was still much taller than him. He felt comforted, knowing that they were here with him, although the feeling soured somewhat with Sylvain's next question.

"What do you have planned for your birthday, Highness?"

Dimitri shrugged. "I think my uncle would rather not have the hassle of a celebration," he murmured.

Sylvain hummed. "Well, I didn't ask what the Regent wanted." To his left, Felix cleared his throat, and Dimitri gave him a curious look, but Sylvain continued as though he hadn't heard. "If you could do anything, Highness, what would you choose?"

"I...I am not sure," Dimitri said, looking down at his hands.

"Attend a grand ball?" Sylvain suggested. "Kiss a pretty girl?"

Felix clicked his tongue. "Gautier…"

"I...no," Dimitri stammered, face flushing. He grimaced, trying to separate his desires from Sylvain's words. "I only want—peace. It gets so loud at court sometimes…"

"I doubt the Regent is planning any grand event," Felix muttered darkly. 

Dimitri said nothing, though it was true that his uncle had never celebrated his birthday in the years since he'd taken over as Dimitri's guardian. 

"But surely, for your sixteenth—" Sylvain began. 

"No," Dimitri said, closing his eyes briefly. "It's alright, Sylvain. I do not mind." He stepped back, away from the edge of the tower. "We should head back. I have lessons this afternoon."

He turned away, moving back toward the staircase, and tried to ignore the murmured voices behind him. Sylvain and Felix were speaking too low for him to hear, and even if he could have overheard, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

When they arrived back at the palace, Felix went off on some errand, leaving Sylvain and Dimitri alone together in the entrance hall. 

"Thank you for taking me to the castle today," Dimitri said a little stiffly. 

Sylvain hummed in acknowledgement. "Your Highness," he said after a moment, "I've been thinking...what if you came with me to Gautier?"

Dimitri lifted his head. "What do you mean?" he asked, hope lifting his spirits slightly. "When?"

"If we left tomorrow we'd be there in plenty of time for your birthday," Sylvain said, offering him a crooked smile. 

Dimitri's heart leapt. "Oh, yes!" he said, a smile rushing to his face. "Oh please, I would like that more than anything. Might we even leave today?"

"Today?" Sylvain asked, laughing. "Are you that keen to get away?"

Dimitri faltered. "I..."

Sylvain took pity on him, smiling softly. He reached out to squeeze Dimitri's shoulder, thumb digging into the side of his neck. "We can leave today if you want to, cub. Let me just arrange things with the Regent, alright?"

"Alright," Dimitri said, nodding. He attempted a smile, although his insides churned at the thought of his uncle refusing him this, the way he'd refused to send Dimitri away to Garreg Mach this year. 

"Don't worry," Sylvain said, as though he could read Dimitri's thoughts. "I'll talk him into it." He winked, his thumb still pressing into Dimitri's neck, warm and rough. "I can be very charming when I want to be."

Dimitri's insides shuddered again, although he wasn't sure why, as he found himself reassured by Sylvain's words. "In that case," he said, clearing his throat when he found his voice weak, "I'll go and pack some things."

Sylvain nodded. "Just bring what you can carry. We can have the rest of your things sent on after."

"I'll be ready within the hour," Dimitri said, a smile tugging at his lips. 

"Then I'd better hurry and see your uncle," Sylvain said, winking as he pulled away. "I'll meet you in the entrance hall in an hour."

—

Leaving his servant with instructions for what to send on, and an apology to his tutor, Dimitri left the palace that afternoon feeling unburdened, and giddy with anticipation. He'd only ever spent his birthdays at the palace, and it was a long time since it had felt like a joyous occasion. Not since he was young, and even then, his relationship with his father had been strained: first, by the loss of his mother, and then by his father's preoccupation with his stepmother. The happiest year that he could remember was, in fact, the year that his father had remarried, in which the King had taken his new Queen to Derdriu, far to the South, while Dimitri had spent the winter at the palace with Felix and Sylvain and Ingrid. He remembered them telling stories around the fire, and snowball fights in the courtyard, and Sylvain carrying him to bed when he fell asleep on the rug in front of the fire with the dogs. If he tried, he could still recall the scratch of Sylvain's beard against his neck, and the smell of spiced wine on his breath. 

"Is everything alright?" Sylvain asked him as they rode out of the North gate, leaving Fhirdiad for the northern territories. 

Dimitri looked over at him, puzzled. "Hm?"

"You're awfully quiet," Sylvain said, looking at him with concern. "If you want to go back..."

"No!" Dimitri said quickly, and laughed. "Not for an instant." He turned his gaze back to the road, smiling to himself. "I was just thinking of that winter we all spent at the palace, when my father was away."

Sylvain made a soft sound of acknowledgement. "You must have been...eight? Nine perhaps?"

"I think I turned nine that winter," Dimitri agreed. "It—feels wrong to say so, but I think that was the happiest birthday I've ever had."

"Well," Sylvain said after a moment's consideration. "Perhaps it's wrong for me to agree, but I do, and it warms my heart to hear it."

Dimitri smiled. "What will we do when we reach your home?"

Sylvain laughed. "Well, for a start, I'll have to find somewhere for you to sleep. Most of the house is shut up, and there won't be any fires lit." Sylvain hummed and put his hand to his mouth, thoughtlessly squeezing his bottom lip between his gloved finger and thumb as he pondered. 

"I don't wish to be any trouble—"

"No, no," Sylvain said, still thoughtful. "I think we'll put you in the room next to mine. That part of the house will already be warm."

"Oh, I promise I won't disturb you," Dimitri said quickly, although he couldn't help thinking of his sporadic nightmares and fitful nights with some measure of trepidation. 

Sylvain beamed at him. "You're no trouble, cub. I meant what I said to you the other day. My home is your home."

"Thank you," Dimitri murmured, ducking his head to hide the way he felt suddenly bashful in the face of Sylvain's generosity. 

"Of course, there's nowhere to speak of for us to break our journey tonight," Sylvain continued. "But we can make camp somewhere, so long as you don't mind huddling for warmth."

Dimitri swallowed thickly. "I don't mind it."

Sylvain laughed. "Just as well."

—

They stopped to make camp just as dusk began to fall. Dimitri built a fire while Sylvain arranged the little tent, which scarcely looked large enough for the two of them both to fit inside it. 

"Are you warm enough?" Sylvain asked, coming over and holding his hands over the meagre fire.

Dimitri nodded. "Are you?"

Sylvain laughed and slapped his stomach. "I've got plenty of blubber, Highness, don't worry about me."

Dimitri frowned, but didn't comment. Sylvain was sturdily built, with comfortable layers of fat over strong muscle, but he wasn't fat, like so many of the Regent's cronies at court. Not to mention, Sylvain was tall, half a head taller than him at least, and with his shaggy hair and rust-coloured beard, he reminded Dimitri of a bear: ponderous and quiet, yet fiercely strong. Felix, by contrast, was like a mountain cat; lean and lithe, using his smaller size to his advantage in battle. 

"Here," Sylvain said, pulling some food out of his pack and handing it to Dimitri. "Eat up, cub."

Dimitri accepted the dried meat and bread gratefully, and watched as Sylvain set a pot over the fire to heat up the stew that they'd brought with them from the palace kitchens. 

"Tell me," Sylvain murmured softly, while Dimitri chewed the tough meat. "How have things been lately, at the palace?"

For several moments, Dimitri pondered what to say. He didn't like to complain, and felt it was wrong for him to pass judgement on another member of his family, even if he struggled to look kindly on his uncle's actions. Sylvain and Felix's obvious displeasure, however, was encouraging to him, and after a moment's consideration he formed an answer. 

"I do not think my uncle cares for me."

Sylvain's shoulders stiffened, although he didn't turn his gaze from the fire. "Oh no?"

Dimitri bit his lip. "He grows frustrated with me easily, and rarely sees me." He looked down at the hunk of bread he still held in his hands, which he had unconsciously begun tearing into smaller pieces. "I fear that he resents me. That he wants me gone so that he can take the throne himself."

"That will never happen," Sylvain said, his voice quiet but fierce.

Closing his eyes, Dimitri shook his head. "I have little power to stop him. I can do nothing about the way he abuses his position to take whatever pleases him. If it weren't for you, we would still be fighting Sreng at every turn. And Duscur..."

"There will never be another Duscur," Sylvain said, his voice trembling with quiet fury. 

Dimitri looked up in surprise, lips parting on a wordless query. Sylvain rarely looked angry, but his eyebrows were drawn down, his mouth twisted. "Sylvain?" Dimitri whispered.

"We should never have gone to war with Duscur," Sylvain muttered, shaking his head. Finally he lifted his gaze to Dimitri's, his eyes bright in the light from their campfire. "I will never allow you to come to harm again, Mishka. Not from the Regent. Not from anyone."

Dimitri's eyes began to sting, and he turned away from the smoking fire to allow them some relief. "Thank you, Sylvain," he whispered. "But I don't want anyone else to die for me."

Sylvain snorted, breaking the tension that had settled over them. "Who said anything about dying?" he teased, and reached out to give Dimitri’s knee a comforting squeeze. "Don’t worry, I don’t plan to die anytime soon. Who would annoy Felix if I wasn’t around?”

Dimitri laughed weakly. "I don’t know, I seem to do a passable job of that myself.”

"Then I’d better stick around until you’ve become a master at it, hadn’t I?” Sylvain said, winking at him. 

Despite his fears, Dimitri found himself soothed by Sylvain’s words, and pushed his worries away to instead appreciate the simple pleasure of being alone in the wilds with Sylvain. The stew they’d brought was rich and filling, and made Dimitri feel warm all the way to his toes, despite the cold night air. He was still glad that they would be sharing a bedroll; Sylvain always seemed to be warm, and gave off heat like a furnace, making him the ideal person to camp with. As the night drew on, the sky above them filled with stars, and Dimitri tipped his head back to watch them wheeling overhead. 

"Thank you, Sylvain,” he said softly. At Sylvain’s inquisitive sound, he smiled. "For bringing me out here.”

"You’re welcome, Highness.”

Dimitri turned to look at him. "We’re away from the palace now, Sylvain. Please, won't you call me by my name?"

Sylvain smiled. "I can do that, Dimitri."

—

Dimitri woke the next morning feeling surprisingly rested, with Sylvain's warm bulk pressed against his back, and a heavy arm draped around his middle. He lay there for several minutes, warm and comfortable, and half-tempted to close his eyes again and try to sleep longer, but finally Sylvain stirred and withdrew. 

"We should get on the road," he mumbled, sitting up. He reached over and laid a gentle hand on Dimitri's shoulder. "Mishka? You awake?"

"Mm," Dimitri hummed, pretending to be just waking. "What time is it?"

Sylvain smiled at him. "Still early. I want to reach the estate before nightfall though." 

Dimitri nodded. "I'm awake."

"I'm going to check on the horses," Sylvain said, voice muffled as he pulled on his warm outer layers of clothing once more. "Take your time."

When he was gone, Dimitri rolled onto his back and stared up at the canvas roof of the tent for a minute or so. It was quiet outside, the silence broken only by birdsong, and the rustle of the wind in the nearby trees. As Dimitri sat up, he heard Sylvain talking cheerfully to the horses, and smiled to himself as he retrieved his own outer clothing and pulled it on clumsily. 

Sylvain was relieving his bladder nearby when Dimitri finally stepped outside, but he called over his shoulder for Dimitri to dig some food out of his pack for their breakfast. By the time Sylvain came over to join him by the rebuilt fire, Dimitri had divided the rations and set aside some bread and cheese for them each. 

Sylvain accepted his serving with a smile. "We're lucky the weather is holding," he observed, glancing up at the pale blue sky. "Though I think we'll have snow again before the week is out, if not tonight."

Dimitri nodded, secretly hoping that Sylvain was right. Neither of them had speculated about the length of his visit, but the depths of winter made travel notoriously difficult in the northern reaches of Faerghus. Heavy snowfall might mean that Dimitri had to stay in Gautier longer than planned, perhaps even until spring, although he felt guilty about hoping for such an outcome. 

The two packed up their things as soon as they had finished eating, and having ensured that the horses had eaten, set off on the road once more. 

They finally arrived at the gates of Sylvain's estate in late afternoon, and Dimitri couldn't help noticing the way Sylvain seemed more at ease as they rode up to the manor house and were greeted by the servants. They'd been in Fhirdiad so little time that he thought at first he must be imagining it, but there was no doubting the easy manner with which Sylvain welcomed him inside, the smiles that came to him without hesitation as he made arrangements for Dimitri's stay. Once the preparations had all been seen to, Sylvain ushered Dimitri into the kitchen, where he set about making Dimitri something hot to drink. 

"The rest of the staff will be back tomorrow," Sylvain explained, as he threw some spices into a pot and uncorked a bottle of wine. "Although there aren't many of us at the estate these days. Just enough to keep things from falling apart."

Dimitri thought of their conversation from a few days earlier, and couldn't help wondering why Sylvain had never chosen to marry, as the manor was clearly built for a family. He wondered idly whether Sylvain really had cared for the friend he lost to the plague, or perhaps he had simply decided that marriage didn't suit him. He wondered if Sylvain had ever wanted children of his own. 

"You're awfully quiet again," Sylvain observed, standing over the fire and stirring the pot of mulled wine. He cast a smile back in Dimitri's direction. "Tired?"

"Oh, no," Dimitri said, starting guiltily. "Just...thinking."

"Oh?" Sylvain retrieved two cups, and decanted the wine into them before returning to where Dimitri sat on the kitchen bench. "Here, drink up."

"Thank you." He took the cup, wrapping both hands around it to warm them. "You must get lonely here."

Sylvain looked surprised. "What makes you say that?"

"It's such a long way from everyone," Dimitri said, frowning. "And you said yourself that there's hardly anybody here. Isn't it terribly lonely?"

"I suppose it can be," Sylvain allowed, shrugging a little. He lifted his cup to take a sip, then winced and lowered it. "Still too hot. I don't mind the solitude that much." He smiled. "I have plenty to occupy me, and plenty to read when I need a distraction. The one thing I can be grateful to my father for is his choice in reading material."

"Oh, I've never seen your library," Dimitri said, sitting up. In truth, he didn't spend a great deal of time in the palace library either, outside of his assigned lessons, always preferring more active pursuits. "What do you like to read?"

Sylvain smiled, looking pleased by Dimitri's interest. "Anything I can get my hands on. But I'm particularly fond of history and science, though of course I'm partial to a good story on a cold night."

"What kind of stories do you enjoy?" Dimitri asked, sitting forward in his seat.

"Oh, you know," Sylvain said, grinning behind his cup. "Heroes vanquishing villains, rescuing their true loves, that sort of thing."

Dimitri rolled his eyes fondly. "Tales for children."

"Not at all!" Sylvain said, feigning offence. "People need stories, you know, Mishka. They comfort us, and hope."

"Hm...I had not thought of that," Dimitri allowed, bowing his head. "Perhaps you can recommend something for me to read while I am here. I have never been a very dedicated reader."

Sylvain grinned at him. "I believe I can do that."

They drank their wine, chatting quietly as they slowly thawed out by the kitchen fire. When they were finished, one of the servants returned to let them know that a hot bath had been prepared for the Prince, and Sylvain led Dimitri upstairs.

"I hope you'll be comfortable," he said as they crested the top of the stairs. He paused on the landing and pointed to the next door along. "That's where I'll be, if you need me. You'll be in here." 

Sylvain pushed open the nearest door, and Dimitri's eyes widened as he stepped inside the cosy, well-appointed room. A fire burned merrily in the hearth, while the bed was surrounded by beautiful, embroidered hangings. It was smaller than Dimitri's own room at the palace, but lovelier by far, and he turned on the spot several times, looking about him. 

"Will this suit you, Your Highness?" Sylvain asked, his tone teasing.

Dimitri beamed at him. "It's wonderful."

"I'll be just next door, should you need me," Sylvain said, crossing the room to a door by the window. He opened it and gestured through. Going over to him, Dimitri peered through the door at the large, comfortable room beyond. "This room is meant for the lady of the house," Sylvain explained, seeing his surprise, and smiling wryly. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all!" Dimitri said, wincing when his words squeaked on the way out. He cleared his throat and made another attempt. "I'm very grateful to you for inviting me, and at such short notice."

Sylvain's eyes crinkled with his smile, and he grasped Dimitri's shoulder firmly. "No need to be so formal," he said, giving Dimitri a gentle shake. "We're away from the palace, after all." Dimitri's face coloured to hear Sylvain echoing his own words back at him, but before he could find a reply, Sylvain continued, "I'm sure you'd like to bathe after the journey. I'll leave you to settle in, and have some supper ready in an hour or two, alright?"

Dimitri nodded. "Thank you."

"Enjoy your bath," Sylvain called back as he walked to the door. 

—

The following day dawned bright and cold, although Sylvain said over breakfast that he thought it would snow before evening. He went out shortly after to deal with some business around the estate, leaving Dimitri with an invitation to explore at his heart's content, and a promise to be home before lunch. Dimitri considered asking to join him, but in truth, his curiosity was piqued by the possibility of exploring the manor on his own, so he remained silent. 

Dimitri had only visited Gautier twice before, that he could recall, and he had been much younger then, lacking the freedom to explore. As soon as he'd finished his breakfast, Dimitri got up and began to wander the rooms on the ground floor of the manor. He found the drawing room first, obviously lived in, with a fire already blazing. A book lay open on one of the armchairs, and a half-empty decanter of whiskey sat on the table beside it, with a clean glass waiting to be filled. Unable to stay his curiosity, Dimitri sat down in the armchair, smiling when he found it comfortable and welcoming, obviously worn from frequent use. He lifted the stopper from the neck of the decanter and inhaled delicately, but could only detect the faintest aroma of alcohol. 

The library was next, another room that Sylvain clearly used often. Stacks of books lay around haphazardly, where Sylvain had apparently consulted them and then left them where they lay. There was a neat pile of writing paper on the desk, embossed with the Gautier family crest. Dimitri half-considered writing a short message for Sylvain to find when next he sat there, but he could think of nothing to write. 

For some time after that, he wandered through dark, still rooms, admiring paintings and peering under dust sheets. It was hard to find anything of Sylvain in these old, hollow rooms, full of beautifully made furniture and unfamiliar faces frowning down at him. At last he found his way back to the entrance hall, where he decided to venture upstairs. 

Sylvain hadn't told Dimitri _not_ to go into his bedroom, and although Dimitri felt like it would be a violation to do so, he was curious nevertheless. He decided that he would start with the empty rooms, and see if he could work up the courage to peek into Sylvain's chambers too. 

Dimitri looked at the portraits as he climbed the stairs. One in particular caught his eye as he passed, and he stopped to look at it. It wasn't especially grand, and yet even so, Dimitri wasn't sure how he'd failed to notice it before. The portrait appeared to be of Sylvain, but much younger, around Dimitri's age, with such vibrant red hair that Dimitri might have thought the artist had taken liberties with the colour, except that he'd seen another portrait of Sylvain in his early twenties, and his hair had been the same vivid shade then too. It was still bright now, but the colour was milder, and he had greyish streaks at his temples. 

Looking at the painting now, Dimitri could see how he'd missed it before. Sylvain's expression in the portrait was solemn, even haughty, making him appear almost like a stranger when contrasted with the smiling father figure Dimitri knew. Dimitri found himself unable to look away from it, entranced by the similarities that he now saw in the painted face. 

"You found that, did you?" came Sylvain's voice from behind him. He walked up the stairs as Dimitri blushed. 

"I apologise, I didn't mean to pry—"

"Don't be silly," Sylvain said, shaking his head. "They're out here on public display, aren't they?" He turned to look up at the painting himself and sighed. "I was quite the brat back then."

Dimitri followed his gaze, staring up at the portrait, trying to marry the lonely looking young man to the man standing beside him. "You were beautiful," he said, not hearing his own words until it was too late. His eyes widened, and he hurried to find an apology. "F-forgive me, I—"

"Not at all," Sylvain said lightly, brushing over the mishap as though Dimitri had said something mildly amusing. "I'm flattered you think so. Although, I doubt you would have thought so kindly of me back then."

Dimitri stared at him. "Whyever not?"

Sylvain shook his head and sighed. "I wasn't a good person back then." He winced briefly, then ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. "Although I don't know that I'm a good person now, either."

"What?" Dimitri asked, horrorstruck. "But of course you are!" At Sylvain's doubtful look, he pressed on, "Why, Sylvain, you're one of the most noble men I've ever had the privilege to know."

Sylvain didn't seem pleased by the praise. He gave Dimitri an odd look, his head tilted slightly to one side, his lips pursed as though he wanted to speak but was holding himself back. "Thank you, Dimitri," he said at length, with a faint half-smile that was more like a smirk. "It gladdens me to know that someone believes that."

Whatever response Dimitri might have expected, Sylvain's reply disarmed him, and he floundered for several moments, unsure what he ought to say next, and feeling that he'd probably said more than enough already. Instead, he turned back to the portrait, but the haughty gaze of the painted Sylvain made him feel awkward and small. Cringing inwardly, he excused himself and hurried up the stairs to his room, where he threw himself down upon his bed, and covered his head with one of the pillows. 

The wave of mortification soon ebbed, although Dimitri's face warmed again when there was a knock at his door a short while later.

"Come in!" he called.

The door opened, and Sylvain leaned against the doorframe. "Is everything alright?"

"Perfectly!" Dimitri said quickly. 

Sylvain nodded. "I spoke with some of my tenants today. Apparently a wounded hart has been sighted in the woods nearby."

"Oh, no. Do you suspect poachers?"

"It's possible," Sylvain said, sighing. "In any case, I'm going to go out and look for him. If he's too badly wounded to recover, it would be kinder to put the poor creature out of its misery."

Dimitri nodded solemnly. "May I come?"

Sylvain smiled. "I'd be glad of the company. I was planning to set out at first light tomorrow, but—"

"I don't mind," Dimitri said quickly. "In fact, I—there's a tradition…"

"I know it," Sylvain said, nodding. "It's part of the reason I came to invite you."

Dimitri smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Sylvain."

Sylvain nodded, and rapped his knuckles briefly against the doorframe. "Tomorrow it is then."

—

The promised snow came that night, and when Dimitri was awakened the following morning, it was to find a fresh blanket of snow outside his window, shimmering pale blue in the pre-dawn gloom. He dressed hurriedly and made his way downstairs to eat a rushed breakfast with Sylvain, before the two set out into the cold. The sun had not yet risen, and they picked their way carefully across the muted landscape, grey skies above and dark trees ahead. Although they stood out against the snow, there was little snowfall in the forest, and they crept carefully through the trees, searching for signs of their quarry.

After an hour or more had passed in silence, Sylvain suddenly put a hand out to stop him, and Dimitri froze. Lifting his arm, Sylvain pointed up and out of the trees, to where faint movement could be seen on the ridge just beyond the forest. Holding his gaze, Sylvain nodded to him.

Heart racing, Dimitri drew the bow from his shoulder, and nocked an arrow from the quiver at his hip as silently as he could. He shifted his feet, taking a stance, squinting into the bright dawn light. The hart took several limping steps, then stopped and released a mournful cry, baying across the valley. 

"Easy, cub," Sylvain whispered.

Dimitri took a deep breath and held it. He drew his bow, aiming carefully between the sparse trees, noting the faint breeze. He released the arrow finally with a _whum_. The animal gave an aborted cry, then staggered to its knees, and then to the ground. 

"Good shot," Sylvain said, clapping him on the shoulder, though his expression was still solemn. "Come on, lad." 

Dimitri shouldered his bow once more, and the two of them hurried out of the trees and up the hill to where the deer lay dying. 

"Poor thing," Sylvain said, crouching beside the deer and reaching out to lay a hand on its shoulder. The deer's right hindleg was badly wounded, and Sylvain examined the wound with a disdainful look on his face. "Poachers," he muttered. "Like you thought."

"Is he in pain?" Dimitri asked in a small voice. 

Sylvain shook his head, and reached out to stroke the deer's neck slowly. "No, not anymore. You did well."

Dimitri swallowed thickly. His mouth was very dry, and he licked his bottom lip to wet it before he spoke again. "What now?"

"Accept the life you've claimed," Sylvain murmured, and drew a sharp hunting knife from his belt. 

Dimitri crouched in the snow and watched as Sylvain slid his knife between the deer's ribs, slitting open its chest. The rich stink of copper and gore filled the air, strong enough even for Dimitri to smell it. As he watched, Sylvain pulled open the rib cage, and, finding the heart, he cut a sliver off it. 

"Mishka," he said softly, beckoning Dimitri closer. He held up the glistening little sliver of meat. 

Dimitri blinked, and licked his lips nervously. Sylvain wasn't smiling, but his expression was gentle, in contrast to the knife he still held in his other hand, and the gore staining both of his hands to the wrist. 

"Accept this life which you took out of mercy," Sylvain said in a low voice, lifting his hand to Dimitri's face. 

"I accept it gratefully," Dimitri murmured, his heart pounding. He opened his mouth, and Sylvain gently placed the still-warm piece of heart on his tongue, his thumb brushing Dimitri's lips as he pulled his hand away again. Dimitri chewed the sliver of heart and then swallowed it, the meat slippery and greasy on his tongue. 

Sylvain gave him a brief, weary smile. "Good work, cub," he said, and then bent to clean his hands in a drift of clean snow. 

Dimitri looked down at the snow underfoot, which had turned red with the deer's blood. "I've never killed an animal before," he said quietly. "I've killed men, but never a creature."

Lifting his head, Sylvain reached out and grasped Dimitri's forearms with his hands, which were cold and still streaked with blood. "If I had my way, you'd never have to lift your blade against another living soul."

"A King must be able to fight," Dimitri argued softly.

Sylvain nodded. "As things stand now, aye."

Dimitri wrinkled his nose. "And how _should_ things stand?"

But Sylvain only shook his head, an enigmatic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're the one who'll be King someday, cub," he murmured, gently stroking the inside of Dimitri's wrist with his thumb. "I think that's up to you."

His face warming, Dimitri glanced away. "Yes, you are right." He closed his eyes briefly, sighing. "Were it up to me, we would have no more war, with anyone."

"Well, that's something to look forward to," Sylvain said, smiling at him.

Dimitri nodded, and cleared his throat. "What should we do with it?" he asked, glancing back at the deer's carcass.

"A feast," Sylvain said, getting to his feet. He grinned. "For your birthday." He put his fingers to his mouth and let out a shrill, piercing whistle, calling his horse, whom they'd left grazing in the mouth of the forest. Between them, they hauled the deer carcass over the horse's back, then turned him back toward the manor. 

They walked for several minutes in silence, their feet crunching in the heavy snow, while Sylvain's horse gave the occasional snort into the cold air. When they reached the manor, a stablehand came out to receive the horse, and several servants were fetched to bring the deer down into the kitchen. With everything in hand, Sylvain and Dimitri returned to their rooms to change out of their hunting clothes, and Dimitri gave a contented sigh at finding a warm bath awaiting him. As he undressed, he glanced into the mirror, and froze when he noticed that there was a red smudge over his mouth. Moving closer, he realised that it was a thumbprint from Sylvian's bloody hand, staining his bottom lip and the corner of his mouth. For a few moments, Dimitri stared at his own reflection, mesmerised by the tangible proof of Sylvain's touch on him, reaching up to touch the dried blood with his own fingertips. 

Realising that the bath would be getting cold, Dimitri shook himself after a moment, and turned away from the mirror.

—

They passed the rest of the day quietly, and that night they dined well on roasted venison. After dinner, they curled up in armchairs beside the fire, Sylvain reading while Dimitri stared into the flames.

"Is something troubling you, Mishka?" Sylvain asked after a little while, setting his book down on his knee. 

Dimitri looked up, and shook his head. "Forgive me, I was lost in my thoughts."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Sylvain said simply. 

"What are you reading?" Dimitri asked, sitting forward. "History?"

Sylvain shook his head. "One of those books of fanciful tales you were so displeased by," he teased.

Dimitri huffed. "I never said I was displeased by them." He turned in his seat, facing toward Sylvain and resettling the blanket over his knees. "Won't you read some to me?"

"Oh?" Sylvain raised an eyebrow. "You'd like a bedtime story?"

Faint colour tinged Dimitri's cheeks. "Not if you're going to tease me about it."

Sylvain laughed. "No teasing, I promise. I'd be happy to oblige." He picked up the book again, and turned to another page. As if summoned, one of Sylvain's fat, orange cats hopped up lightly and settled in Dimitri's lap. Sylvain laughed. "That's the trouble with this house. Sit still too long and they start thinking you're furniture."

"I don't mind," Dimitri said, tentatively running his hand over the cat's back. The creature stretched into his hand, then curled up and started to purr. "Ah! He likes that."

Smiling indulgently, Sylvain took a sip of wine, then cleared his throat and began to read. "A very long time ago, two princesses were born to the king…"

As he began to tell the story, Dimitri settled deeper into the armchair, still stroking the purring cat with rhythmic movements. Sylvain's voice was rich and soft, and he read well, not too fast or too slow. Before long, Dimitri found himself struggling to keep his eyes open, his head lolling against the arm of the chair. He blinked awake several times when he caught himself falling, but finally surrendered and let his eyes fall shut. 

The fire had burned to embers by the time he awoke again, and the cat had retreated, leaving his lap cold in its absence. Sylvain was leaning over him, a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Mishka? Mishka. Wake up, cub."

Dimitri blinked awake slowly, dazed. "Mm? Sylvain—you were reading. I'm sorry, I—"

"Shh, it's alright," Sylvain said, voice simmering with gentle amusement. He gently lifted the blanket off Dimitri's lap. "Time for bed, cub. Up you get."

"Alright," Dimitri murmured, and stifled a yawn against his hand. "I'm coming." 

Sylvain took his hand, and Dimitri followed sleepily as he was led up the stairs to his room. At the door, Sylvain paused and turned to him. "Sleep well, lad," he said, and cupping the back of Dimitri's neck, kissed his forehead. "And happy birthday."

"Thank you," Dimitri mumbled, smiling at him before turning and making his way to bed. 

Still half asleep, Dimitri dropped off quickly, but he didn't have peace for very long. 

After several weeks of peaceful dreaming, Dimitri was visited by horrors in his sleep that night, demons with the bodies of warriors, but the heads and antlers of stags. They were all shirtless, and they fought him bare-handed in the snow, not seeming to mind the cold. Each time Dimitri wrestled one to the ground, another would grab him, or two would bear him into the snow with the weight of their bodies. He lashed out at him, kicking and beating them with his hands, but they didn't stop. He tore at them with his nails and bit them when they came too close, until the snow around him was stained scarlet, and his mouth and chin were red with their blood. And inside him all the while was some dark, terrible force baying for blood, urging him to rend and tear, driving him to destroy.

Another attacker seized him from behind, holding his arms tightly at his sides. Dimitri shouted, trying in vain to free himself, struggling against his opponent's hold.

"Mishka—Mishka, wake up! Mishka, it's _me_ —"

Dimitri opened his eyes with a start, although it took him several moments to recognise Sylvain above him. He froze as he became aware of where he was, realising it was Sylvain who held him down: strong, firm hands pinning his wrists at his sides, while he sat astride Dimitri's thighs, preventing him from struggling. 

"Sylvain—?" Dimitri whispered, and then closed his eyes as they burned with shameful tears. "S-Sylvain, o-oh, I—I—I'm s-so—s-sorry, I—"

"Shh, now," Sylvain murmured, loosening his hold on Dimitri. He carefully climbed off Dimitri's legs and settled beside him. "There now, little cub, it's alright. Just a dream."

Freed of his restraint, Dimitri rolled away from Sylvain, turning onto his side and curling himself into a tight ball. His tears began to roll down his face, soaking into the pillow, his chest hitching as he tried to hide his sobs. 

"Mishka," Sylvain said softly. He placed a gentle hand on Dimitri's arm, squeezing carefully. "Don't be afraid. I'm here."

"I—d-didn't mean to—w-wake you," Dimitri stammered, his voice weak and thready. He wrapped his arms more tightly around himself. "Please—I-I'm—f-fine."

Sylvain sighed softly. "You're not fine, Mishka," he murmured, shifting closer. "You don't have to be fine." 

Dimitri squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the burning in his eyes worsened, his throat thick with the urge to sob. 

"Come on," Sylvain urged gently, still running his hand back and forth along Dimitri's arm. "Let it out, lad. I won't judge you."

A choked sound escaped Dimitri's throat, and in a moment of wild abandon, he turned over and flung his arms around Sylvain's waist, curling into his side. Sylvain wasn't wearing a shirt, but Dimitri barely noticed, pressing his face into Sylvain's bare stomach and hugging him tightly. Sylvain made soothing noises above him, and ran his fingers slowly through Dimitri's hair as he finally let the sobs escape him. 

"It's alright, little cub," Sylvain soothed. "It's alright. Just a bad dream." 

After a few minutes, Dimitri started to shiver, so Sylvain gently extricated Dimitri from his determined grasp and moved down to lie beside him, pulling the bedcovers back up to cover them both. His hands were warm against Dimitri's back where he held him, his arms heavy and solid encircling him. Dimitri told him in halting sentences about his dream, and Sylvain soothed him with kind words until he'd finally calmed down enough to sleep.

—

Dimitri awoke slowly, unsure of where he was at first. He was very warm, almost uncomfortably so, and he felt the warmth and softness of another person's skin before he opened his eyes. The previous night came back to him; the nightmare, and waking up to Sylvain's hands on him. The reassuring weight of Sylvain's arms around him. 

Dimitri stretched a little, finding that Sylvain's arm was draped loosely around him, and that his head rested on Sylvain's chest, nestled in the crook of his armpit. His own arm lay across Sylvain's chest, while their legs tangled together in a way that was surprisingly comfortable. Not everything about the situation was comfortable, however, not least that Dimitri badly needed to relieve himself, which had resulted in an almost painful erection. 

With as much care as he could manage, Dimitri untangled himself from Sylvain, who was snoring faintly, and moved over to the edge of the bed. He retrieved the chamber pot from beneath and relieved himself, then replaced it and rolled onto his back again, wondering whether he ought to wake Sylvain or not. 

Looking over, he let his eyes roam over Sylvain's face in the morning light. In sleep, Sylvain looked more like his portrait on the stairs: his face still and calm, the faint lines on his face smoothed. The morning sun picked out golden highlights in his hair and beard. His eyelashes were like a delicate eider feather against his cheek, and his lips were parted slightly, showing a sliver of teeth. 

Finding his mouth dry, Dimitri swallowed thickly. He'd tugged the bedcovers down in his earlier escape, and he reached out to pull them up again, covering Sylvain's bare chest. The movement made him stir, however, and after a moment Sylvain opened his eyes and offered Dimitri a smile. 

"Mishka," he said softly, eyes drifting closed again for a few moments. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very well," Dimitri said, returning his smile. "I'm sorry to have kept you from your bed."

Sylvain opened his eyes again, his smile widening. "Shouldn't I be sorry for invading yours?" He yawned then, and stretched languidly. "Mm, I haven't slept so well in years."

Neither had Dimitri, but he felt strange admitting it. "Thank you," he said instead. "For staying with me."

"It's no trouble," Sylvain said, still watching him. "Do you dream like that often?"

Dimitri glanced away. "Not...often."

"Hmm."

"I hope I didn't hurt you," Dimitri said, grimacing. "I've—hurt people before, when my dreams take me in my sleep."

Sylvain laughed softly. "You'd have to do a lot worse than that to hurt me, lad."

Dimitri attempted a smile. "Thank you, for waking me."

"It pains me to see you suffer," Sylvain said. He reached up, touching Dimitri's chin with his finger and thumb, then lifted his hand higher to brush a lock of hair behind Dimitri's ear. 

His touch sent a shiver rippling down Dimitri's spine, and Dimitri closed his eyes, leaning unconsciously into Sylvain's hand. 

Sylvain swallowed audibly. "Mishka..."

"I feel so safe with you," Dimitri whispered.

To his surprise, Sylvain withdrew his hand quickly. When Dimitri opened his eyes, Sylvain wouldn't meet his gaze. 

"It's getting late," Sylvain said, shifting to the edge of the bed. "Sleep a little longer if you need, I should—" 

He rose without finishing his sentence, and moved over to the door that joined their rooms. Dimitri watched, puzzled, as Sylvain left, closing the door loudly behind him.

—

At breakfast, Sylvain showed no sign of the odd awkwardness of that morning. They spent the day together quietly, reading by the fire, while outside it began to snow once more. After a while, Dimitri set aside his book and simply watched the snow drifting down. The sight was mesmerising, and he lost count of how many minutes he sat and watched as the garden became lost in a haze of white. 

"Penny for your thoughts, lad?"

Dimitri turned, blinking at Sylvain as his eyes adjusted to the room. "I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I was somewhere else entirely."

Sylvain gave him a soft, lopsided grin. "Are you warm enough? Do you want some tea?"

Dimitri shook his head again. "I'm fine, thank you." He turned to look out of the window again. "I like being here, with you."

"You do?" 

"Mm," Dimitri hummed, looking back at him and smiling. "Of course I do. There's nobody I'd rather be with."

Sylvain's eyes widened briefly, then they crinkled as he laughed. "I'm flattered. Although I'm sure we could find you someone your own age to have fun with."

"Oh...no," Dimitri said, smile turning brittle. "That's alright. I...find it hard to talk with people my age."

"But it must be tiresome for you, with only me and Felix for company," Sylvain continued, his words beginning to grate on Dimitri's patience. "I'm sure that when you go to Garreg Mach you'll find peers who understand you." 

"But—"

"Perhaps you just haven't met the right people yet."

Dimitri clenched his jaw tightly. "Or perhaps I have," he replied, his voice growing testy, "yet they refuse to believe that I'm old enough to know my own mind."

Sylvain hesitated before replying. "Mishka, I only meant—"

"I know very well what you meant," Dimitri replied, more sharply than he intended. Embarrassed, he got to his feet, trying to ignore the warmth flooding his cheeks. "If I'm an imposition here, then I shall arrange to return to the palace as soon as possible."

"Mishka, wait—"

Dimitri walked out and went directly upstairs to his room, where he sat down on the bed, gripping the edge of the mattress tightly. He'd always relied on Sylvain to be honest with him, and support him. The thought that Sylvain wanted rid of him made him feel sick.

After a few minutes, there was a gentle knock on his door. Dimitri didn't move, and after several moments of silence, Sylvain spoke.

"Dimitri? I'm sorry if I've upset you. Please, won't you let me in?"

Dimitri bit the inside of his cheek fiercely, then he sighed and called out, "Come in, Sylvain."

The door opened and Sylvain entered, looking wary and sad. He crossed to where Dimitri sat and knelt down before him. 

"Forgive me," Sylvain said. "I wasn't trying to get rid of you."

Dimitri bit his cheek again, tasting copper. "Have I displeased you?"

"No!" Sylvain said quickly, shaking his head. He laid his hand over Dimitri's knee, his expression softening. "Mishka, of course not. You're welcome to stay here as long as you wish."

"I wish only for your company," Dimitri said in a small voice.

Sylvain smiled at him, although Dimitri fancied that it appeared somewhat strained. "And you have it," he replied, giving Dimitri's knee an encouraging squeeze. "As much of it as you can bear."

Dimitri's smile came reluctantly. "And I—you don't think me a child?"

With a sigh, Sylvain reached up and held his chin gently between thumb and forefinger. "I mean this kindly, cub, but you're the oldest sixteen year old I know."

"Ah." Dimitri chuckled. "You are not the first to say that to me."

Sylvain gave a huff of laughter. "Let me guess—Felix?"

Dimitri rolled his eyes. "He says it less kindly than you do."

"I'm amazed," Sylvain said in a deadpan tone. Grinning, he got to his feet and clapped his hands together. "Alright. Regrettably, I have to go and deal with the accounts. I've put it off long enough. Can you amuse yourself until dinner?"

"Of course," Dimitri answered. "Or—perhaps you could show me, if I would not be in the way."

"Oh?" Sylvain cocked his head. "It's pretty dull, you know."

Dimitri shook his head. "I don't mind that. If I'm to be King, I think I ought to learn a bit about these things."

Sylvain smiled warmly. "Alright then," he said, motioning for Dimitri to follow. "But don't complain later when you're bored to tears."

"I promise," Dimitri said, laughing softly. 

—

Although studying the accounts was as dull as Sylvain had promised, Dimitri couldn't bring himself to mind it. Sylvain always explained things patiently, without making him feel foolish, and Dimitri had been earnest when he spoke of wanting to learn. Once Sylvain had finished showing him, he settled down to make some notations, only for his quill to crack.

"I'll fix it for you," Dimitri offered, hoping to be useful. 

Thanking him, Sylvain took a small pen knife out of his desk and handed it to Dimitri, who took it to sit by the window. 

Dimitri started to work at the broken quill carefully, cutting away the cracked part and forming a new nib. He was almost finished when the knife suddenly slipped, slicing into the base of his thumb. He dropped the knife and clutched his hand with a wince. "Damn."

"Are you bleeding?" Sylvain asked, glancing over.

Dimitri nodded. "My hand slipped. I'm sorry, I've never been good at this kind of work."

"No matter," Sylvain said, pulling a chair close and reaching for his injured hand carefully. "Let me see." 

Wincing, Dimitri let Sylvain take his hand in his own, his breath catching in his throat when Sylvain ducked his head and closed his lips around the base of Dimitri's thumb. He sucked the blood from Dimitri's skin, then drew back to examine the wound. 

"It's not too deep," he said, pressing on it tightly with his thumbs. "Here, you press down. I'll get something to bandage it for you."

Dimitri sat meekly, pressing down on the wound as instructed until Sylvain returned. 

"Does it hurt?" Sylvain asked, returning a few minutes later with some strips of clean linen. 

"Not badly," Dimitri said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I hope I haven't bled on the carpet."

Sylvain chuckled softly. "I'm more concerned about your hand than an old carpet, Mishka."

Dimitri's face warmed. He sat quietly, holding his breath while Sylvain bandaged his hand. When he was done, Sylvain cupped Dimitri's injured hand between his own, then he lowered his head and kissed Dimitri's knuckles softly. 

"There," Sylvain murmured. "Good as new."

Dimitri tried to find a smile, but his face was still warm, and his heart was racing. 

Sylvain stared back at him. He wasn't smiling either, rather there was a curious, unreadable expression on his face. After a few moments, he reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Dimitri's ear, before cupping his face. They held one another's gaze, then Sylvain's gaze dropped to Dimitri's chin. There was a brief moment of stillness, and then for half a second or so, Sylvain leaned closer.

Heart pounding in his ears, Dimitri inhaled sharply, and his chest hitched with the sudden intake of breath. 

Sylvain paused, then he leaned back again, pulling his hand away from Dimitri's face. "Let me know if it starts to ache, and I'll find you something for the pain."

Dimitri swallowed heavily. "Alright." 

Nodding, Sylvain got to his feet and moved away. Dimitri looked down at his hands, which were trembling where they lay against his thighs. He felt such a force within him, driving him to do _something_ , though he had no idea what, only that he didn't want Sylvain to walk away. 

—

When they ate together that evening, even Dimitri could feel that the air between them was fraught, like the hours before a battle. Their fingers brushed when Sylvain passed him the salt, and Dimitri had to stifle a shudder. 

"Do you want to take the horses out tomorrow?" Sylvain asked him as they retired to the fire, their usual place after dinner. "They could probably do with stretching their legs."

Dimitri nodded. "I'd like that," he said, then added cheekily, "I'm sure Felix would be glad of the exercise."

Sylvain laughed. "That he would." As he went to sit, he found that one of the cats had taken up residence in his usual armchair. Rather than move it into his lap, as he would usually have done, Sylvain went instead to the settee that sat further from the fire. 

Dimitri watched him for a few moments before making up his mind. "Will you read to me again?"

"I'd be glad to," Sylvain said, gesturing to where he'd left the book by the armchair. 

Crossing the room, Dimitri picked up the book, pausing when Sylvain called out to him again. 

"Would you pour me some whiskey, cub? My throat's a bit dry for reading."

Dimitri obliged, then carried the book and the glass over to Sylvain. Having handed them over, he sat down on the settee by Sylvain, pulling his legs up beneath him. 

Sylvain, meanwhile, took a sip of his whiskey. Then, clearing his throat, he started to read. His voice soothed Dimitri at once, relaxing the tension that still sang beneath his skin. As the story unfolded, Dimitri leaned closer to him, watching the fire dance while Sylvain read to him. 

"Are you cold?" Sylvain asked when he paused for a sip of whiskey. 

Dimitri nodded, and his heart started to race when Sylvain put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. When Sylvain went to put his glass aside, Dimitri cleared his throat. "May I taste it?"

"If you like," Sylvain murmured, offering him the glass. 

Lifting the glass to his face, Dimitri inhaled deeply, wincing when the scent made the inside of his nose tingle and ache. The first sip of it made him cough. It was smokey and thick in his throat, bitter and hot where it lingered on the sides of his tongue. As he grimaced through another swallow, Sylvain laughed and gently took the glass back from him. 

"It's an acquired taste," he said, trying to hide his smile by lifting the glass to his own face. 

Dimitri rolled his eyes, but he didn't mind the teasing, especially not with the comfortable weight of Sylvain's arm around him, the warmth of his body pressed against Dimitri's side. As Sylvain set aside his drink and picked up the book to resume, Dimitri laid his head on Sylvain's shoulder with a sigh. He closed his eyes as Sylvain began to read to him once more, losing himself in the story, and the comforting heat of Sylvain beside him. 

After a little while, Sylvain reached up and ran his fingers through Dimitri's hair, stroking it back from his face gently with slow, rhythmic movements. The touch made Dimitri shiver, his scalp tingling where Sylvain touched him, and he leaned into it unconsciously, a soft sound escaping his throat. 

When they made their way up to bed later, Sylvain lingered at Dimitri's doorway. "Will you be alright on your own tonight?" he asked, his soft eyebrows drawn in with concern. 

Dimitri's stomach clenched tightly. He'd slept so well with Sylvain at his side, and he felt cold and small now that he was no longer curled up beside him on the settee. "If—if I wasn't?" he ventured, his heart beating in his throat. 

Sylvain's eyes darted into the dimly lit room. "We could leave the door open between us," he suggested.

"Ah...of course," Dimitri said, deflating somewhat.

"Or," Sylvain continued warily. "If you need me to stay…"

Dimitri swallowed thickly. "If—if it would not be an imposition."

Sylvain smiled and squeezed Dimitri's shoulder. "Never. I'll go and change." 

It turned out that trying to fall asleep with Sylvain beside him was far different than when Sylvain had comforted him the night before. Dimitri was all too aware of the space he was taking up in the bed, of Sylvain radiating heat at his side, of the sound of his own breathing. He lay stiff and awkward, not daring to move, scarcely daring to breathe. 

After a few minutes, Sylvain laughed under his breath. "You know, I think this bed is more comfortable than mine."

"O-oh?" Dimitri squeaked. "Maybe that's why you slept better in here?"

Sylvain made a low, considering sound. "Mm, no," he said finally. "I don't think that was it."

"What was it?" Dimitri whispered, turning over to face him. He could faintly make out Sylvain's face in the darkness, and sensed that he was smiling. 

"That's a secret," Sylvain whispered back.

Dimitri huffed. "That isn't fair."

"Oh no?" Sylvain asked, voice warm with amusement. He moved closer, and Dimitri tensed when he felt Sylvain press against him. "Go to sleep, Mishka," he whispered, sliding his arm around Dimitri's waist and pulling him closer. "I'll be here if you need me."

Soothed by his touch, Dimitri hummed and relaxed against him, letting his eyes slip closed. Sylvain's slow breathing was warm against the back of his neck, and Dimitri unconsciously began to inhale and exhale in time with him, until finally he fell asleep.

—

Rising early the next morning, they took shovels and went outside to clear some of the drifts in the courtyard leading from the house to the stables, and around the sides of the manor house too, to make work easier for the servants. The stablehands joined them in the endeavour, and after a few hours of work, they'd cleared the main paths. 

After putting away their shovels, Sylvain led them inside to warm up by the kitchen fire, and Dimitri sat clutching his mug of hot cider and listening to Sylvain converse easily with the stablehands.

Finally, they went back out to the stables, where Felix and Delyth were saddled and waiting for them. Neither horse seemed especially eager to go out into the cold, with Felix putting up a moderate degree of resistance, but at last they managed to make a few circuits of the courtyard, giving their mounts the freedom to get up to a gentle canter. Once in the snow, Delyth was content to frolic, but Felix continued to be bad-tempered and difficult. 

"He hates the cold," Sylvain sighed as they finally dismounted sometime later. He gave Felix a friendly pat on the rump, but Felix apparently hadn't forgiven Sylvain for dragging him out of the warm stable block. The horse turned sharply, bumping Sylvain hard with his rear end and sending him tumbling into a nearby drift of snow. 

"Sylvain!" Dimitri cried, dropping Delyth's reins and hurrying over. 

Sylvain was already struggling upright, cursing the gelding under his breath. 

"Are you alright?" Dimitri asked as Sylvain managed to sit up. 

"Fine, fine," Sylvain sighed, grimacing at the snow that caked his clothing. "This is just like Felix."

Unable to help himself, Dimitri started to laugh. It tore through him, making him double over with the force of it, clutching at his stomach. 

Sylvain watched him with a wry expression. "I see you're not going to help me up," he said. 

Dimitri gasped for breath. "I'm—sorry—you just—look so—" 

"Covered in snow?"

Helpless, Dimitri collapsed into giggles once more. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so much, and it felt wonderfully freeing, to let the feeling take him. 

His amusement was cut short abruptly by a sudden impact against his shoulder. He looked at his cloak and realised it was covered with snow, while Sylvain grinned up at him with snow caked on his gloves.

"Blackguard!" Dimitri cried, and bent down to seize a handful of snow. "I shall have revenge!"

Sylvain laughed and held up his hands in defense. "I'm innocent!" he cried, and gave a yelp of laughter when Dimitri dumped the snow over his head. Taking advantage of Dimitri's distraction, Sylvain grabbed him around the middle and tugged him over into the snow, where the two of them began to wrestle good-naturedly, each trying to push handfuls of snow into each other's clothing. 

"Enough, enough!" Dimitri cried, when Sylvain had him pinned in the snow. "Mercy!"

Laughing, Sylvain adjusted his grip on Dimitri's wrists, leaning his weight on him. "Do you yield?"

Dimitri nodded, though he found himself suddenly without words to respond, gazing up as Sylvain leaned over him. His damp hair hung over his brow, and his face was flushed from exertion. As they stared at one another, Sylvain unconsciously loosened his grip on Dimitri's wrists, and Dimitri reached up without thinking to brush away some flakes of snow that had gathered in Sylvain's russet beard.

Sylvain's eyes grew heavy, and as Dimitri watched him, Sylvain bit his lip, his eyes roaming over Dimitri's face, lingering on his mouth. 

Heart pounding, Dimitri moved his cold fingers across and touched Sylvain's lower lip, coming away with a drop of scarlet blood on his fingertip. "You're bleeding," he whispered.

"It's nothing," Sylvain murmured, wetting his lip with his tongue. "It's the cold."

Unconsciously, Dimitri licked his own lips, still staring up into Sylvain's warm eyes. 

With a groan, Sylvain leaned down and kissed him. 

Dimitri had never been kissed. He certainly hadn't been expecting Sylvain to be the first. And yet the moment their lips touched, his chest began to roar, an unfamiliar hunger bursting inside him. He curled his shaking fingers into Sylvain's clothing and kissed him back, pressing his mouth inexpertly against Sylvain's, and moaning when he found Sylvain's tongue in his mouth. 

"Mishka," Sylvain gasped, breaking away from him. He cupped Dimitri's face with his wet gloves, his expression almost pained, and then he kissed him again with a low, hungry noise that sent shivers running down Dimitri's spine. 

Dimitri clung to him, helpless and dizzy with newfound desire, and mesmerised by the wonderful sensation of Sylvain's mouth sliding hotly against his own. 

They were interrupted finally by Felix giving a particularly pointed snort, at which they startled apart from one another. The voices of the stablehands were audible from where they lay, no doubt standing just out of view. Sylvain got to his feet, clearing his throat. He offered a hand to Dimitri, and the two of them straightened their clothing and brushed off the remaining snow, before Sylvain called for the men to come and lead the horses back to their stalls. 

Although he was quiet, Dimitri's mind was racing. He couldn't stop thinking about the softness of Sylvain's chapped lips, or how it had felt to have Sylvain sit astride him, his firm thighs pressing into Dimitri's.

"Mishka?"

Dimitri looked up sharply. "I—yes?"

Sylvain beckoned. "Let's go back inside, you must be freezing in those wet clothes."

Dimitri nodded, and Sylvain put an arm around his shoulders and steered him back to the house. As soon as they stepped into the back passageway that led past the kitchens, Sylvain crowded Dimitri back against the coat rack and kissed him again. When Dimitri made a startled sound, Sylvain drew back. They held one another's gazes briefly, but seeing that he wasn't protesting, Sylvain paused only to pull his gloves off with his teeth, before cupping Dimitri's jaw with his bare hands and kissing him firmly.

Unable to stop himself, Dimitri moaned into him, clutching at Sylvain's clothing. The hanging coats were warm and soft around him, enveloping him in the scent of Sylvain and the house, making it feel almost as if they were alone, far from anyone. But underneath the racing of his heart, and the soft groans Sylvain made as they kissed, Dimitri could hear the sound of work being done in the kitchen, only a few steps away from where they stood. At a clatter of pots, they pulled apart again, although Sylvain didn't remove his hands from Dimitri's jaw. 

"Mishka," Sylvain whispered, wetting his lips unconsciously. 

Dimitri's eyes followed the dart of pink tongue, then snapped up to meet Sylvain's gaze again. "I—"

"I should not have kissed you," Sylvain whispered, finally letting his hands fall away. 

Dimitri licked his own lips. "Perhaps not," he murmured. "But I should like for you to do it again."

Sylvain's gaze darted along the passageway, still mercifully empty. "Later," he breathed, and flashed Dimitri a brief grin. 

They went into the kitchen, where the cook greeted them with hot bowls of soup and fresh bread. Dimitri kept stealing glances at Sylvain as they ate, unable to stop thinking about what had happened in the courtyard and the hallway. He almost believed he'd dreamed it, but for the way his mouth still tingled with the remembered press of Sylvain's lips. 

As soon as they'd eaten, Sylvain sent him upstairs to take a hot bath and recover from the cold. Realising that he could hardly protest in front of the kitchen staff, Dimitri reluctantly obeyed, traipsing up the stairs and climbing into the hot bath. 

Sitting in the water, Dimitri let his thoughts stray back to the kiss. He pressed his fingertips to his mouth, remembering Sylvain's warm, soft mouth, the scrape of his beard, the thrilling sensation of his tongue. His cock stirred at the memory, and Dimitri hesitated for only a moment before reaching down guiltily to touch himself. He gasped as he closed his fingers around his cock, picturing Sylvain's hands on him instead. He rarely touched himself this way, often too caught up in his own mind to relax, but he felt so much at peace here at Gautier, and the memory of Sylvain's touch was still fresh, making it easy to lose himself in the pleasure. It took him only a few strokes to finish, and he gasped as he spilled over his stomach. 

Guilt stole over him as he sank down from the elation, ashamed of himself for giving in to such base impulses. He wondered if Sylvain would be disgusted with him if he knew, and hurried to finish his bath and dress himself. 

—

By the time Dimitri went downstairs to seek Sylvain once more, it turned out that he'd set out on an errand, so Dimitri was left to amuse himself until dinnertime. 

As had become their custom, they retired to the sitting room after their meal, and curled up side by side on the settee to read together. Dimitri tried to maintain his outward calm, although his heart raced each time they touched, and once or twice he had to wipe his clammy palms against his thighs. He kept waiting for Sylvain to kiss him again, willing him to do so, but it was not until they climbed the stairs much later, when Dimitri hesitated at the door to his room and turned back to face Sylvain. 

"It's late," Sylvain murmured, moving closer to him.

Dimitri was the one to initiate the kiss this time. He flung his arms around Sylvain's neck and kissed him hard, and the two of them stumbled back into Dimitri's bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. This time Dimitri was the one to push Sylvain back against the tapestry, fingers tangled in Sylvain's shirt as they kissed hungrily. Sylvain's tongue tasted of wine, and his skin was warm beneath his clothes.

Dimitri had no idea how long it lasted, only that his lips felt almost numb when they finally broke apart, and a low roar filled his hearing, a dizzying, bewildering rush of desire that he didn't know how to express. 

"I should let you get some sleep," Sylvain said in a low voice, his hands still lingering over Dimitri's hips. 

Dimitri's heart was in his throat. "You could...stay."

Sylvain lifted an eyebrow. "Had you kissed anyone before today?"

Heat rushed to Dimitri's face. "No."

With a smile, Sylvain leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. "Get some sleep, Mishka," he whispered. He stepped away, moving toward the door that joined their bedrooms. "Call me if you have a nightmare."

Dimitri didn't watch him go, too ashamed to let Sylvain see his blush. 

—

Dimitri woke late from a fitful sleep. His sleep had not been plagued by bad dreams, but rather by the unhappy thought that Sylvain must think him a child for his inexperience. His conviction seemed to be borne out when he found that Sylvain had already breakfasted without him and gone out to the stables, and he found he had little appetite for his own morning meal.

Once he'd eaten what he could, Dimitri went in search of Sylvain, hoping to change his mind, but no sooner had he stepped into the stable than Sylvain gave him a slow, lingering look that made heat spill down the length of his spine.

"Good morning, your sleepiness," Sylvain teased, resting his arms on the stall door. "I thought you were going to sleep all day."

"Then you should've woken me," Dimitri said lightly. 

Sylvain laughed. "Touché," he said, watching Dimitri with a wicked smile. 

Dimitri licked his bottom lip nervously, lightning sparking in his gut at the way Sylvain was looking at him. Glancing around, he saw that they were alone, the stablehands nowhere in sight. He looked back at Sylvain, gaze alighting first on his hands where they rested against the coarse wooden boards of the stable door, then on the red-gold hair that covered his forearms, following them up to where his shirt revealed the hollow of his throat, and the soft red beard that covered his jaw. 

"Want to come in?" Sylvain murmured, standing up straight and unlatching the stable door. 

Heart racing, Dimitri stepped inside the empty stall, where he soon found himself lying on top of Sylvain in a pile of sweet-smelling hay as they kissed. The fervour of their stolen kisses the previous day returned tenfold, so that Dimitri was soon panting into Sylvain's mouth, his skin tingling wherever Sylvain touched him.

"We really—can't keep—doing this—" Sylvain mumbled between kisses, letting one of his hands slide down the length of Dimitri's spine.

"Oh, please—" Dimitri gasped. "Don't say we must stop."

Sylvain laughed. "I only meant we can't keep doing this in the stables, or ten yards from the kitchen."

Dimitri swallowed heavily, looking down at Sylvain's gentle face, freckled even in the depths of winter, noting the sparkle of mischief in his warm, dark eyes. "Where would you like to do it instead?" he asked quietly. 

Sylvain's smile widened. "You're getting awfully cheeky, you know."

"I know," Dimitri said boldly. "I've spent too much time around Sylvain."

Sylvain laughed loudly. "Don't let Felix hear you say that."

"Why should your horse care whether I'm cheeky or not?" Dimitri teased.

Still laughing, Sylvain caught him around the middle and rolled him over in the fresh hay. He kissed Dimitri's flushed cheek, making his way across to his ear, where he sucked the earlobe slowly before trailing his lips down the side of Dimitri's neck. 

A shudder passed over Dimitri, his face flushing hotter when he felt the stirring between his legs, his body waking up. He tried to turn his hips away, but one of Sylvain's legs was between his thighs, and as Sylvain moved up to kiss him again, their hips slid together, Sylvain pressing firmly against his erection. Dimitri made a helpless noise in his throat, but couldn't bring himself to break the kiss. Sylvain only cupped his face and kissed him deeper, sucking on his tongue and his bottom lip in a way that made him shiver with desire. 

"Mishka," Sylvain murmured as they parted for breath. He kissed the corner of Dimitri's mouth, then the scar on his chin. "Brave little cub."

Dimitri lifted a shaking hand and pushed his fingers into Sylvain's hair, watching in wonder as Sylvain closed his eyes and tipped his head into Dimitri's hand. 

"When you left," Dimitri whispered. "Last night." He hesitated, wetting his lips. 

"What is it?" Sylvain murmured, propping himself up on his elbow. 

Dimitri glanced away. "I have never kissed anyone, before you. I—I must seem like a child to you."

"Nonsense," Sylvain said, laughing softly. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Dimitri's mouth. "What did I tell you before? You're not a child to me, Mishka, not at all."

"And you do not—" Dimitri paused, biting his lip. "You do not regret kissing me?"

"Do you?" Sylvain asked him, his expression very serious. 

Dimitri shook his head fiercely. "Not at all." 

Sylvain smiled. "And nor do I." He touched Dimitri's jaw with his knuckles, then smoothed the pad of his thumb over Dimitri's bottom lip. "I think you're beautiful."

"Do not tease me," Dimitri muttered, lowering his gaze. "I may be young, but I've heard of your reputation. I'm sure you've known people far more...accomplished than I."

"If I wanted a master of the bedroom arts, I'd marry a whore," Sylvain said, ignoring the way his words made Dimitri blush anew. "Is it not enough to know that I find you enchanting?"

Dimitri lifted his gaze. "Do you really?"

"Don't trust me?" Sylvain asked him, and winked. 

"No, I—I have just never been called enchanting before," Dimitri murmured, his face hot.

"Not to your face," Sylvain said with a wicked smile, ducking his head to kiss Dimitri's neck once more. 

Dimitri succumbed to it gladly, letting his head fall back with a sigh, and grasping a handful of Sylvain's hair as his courage grew. They remained in the stables for some time, kissing and grasping at one another through their clothing until Dimitri was lightheaded, and his chin pleasantly warm from the scrape of Sylvain's soft beard. His cock was still painfully hard when they finally drew away from one another and stood, and he did his best to think of cooling thoughts as he made his way uncomfortably back up to the house. 

—

Over dinner that night, Dimitri begged Sylvain to tell him stories about his time at Garreg Mach. He, Felix and Ingrid had rarely spoken of it since the death of the King, but despite his disappointment in his uncle delaying his departure, he was still eager to hear more about it. 

"It's nothing to the balls at the palace, of course," Sylvain was saying, speaking of the midwinter celebration, "but I remember it being very beautiful, and it was the only time all year that they didn't water down the wine."

Dimitri laughed. "And I suppose you drank too much." 

Sylvain replied with a rakish grin. "Your father was the one who overindulged, not I. He got so drunk he fell in the fish pond, and Felix had to jump in and pull him out. They looked like a pair of wet cats."

"You're exaggerating," Dimitri said, snorting with laughter.

"Not a bit!" Sylvain insisted, waving his own wineglass for emphasis. "I missed most of the excitement of course, as I was occupied elsewhere, but I had most of the story from Ingrid, and you know she's a hopeless liar."

Dimitri grinned. "That's true." He propped his chin on his hand. "So, where were you?"

"Dancing, of course," Sylvain said, winking at him.

"Just dancing?" Dimitri asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Sylvain chuckled. "Mostly dancing."

Dimitri rolled his eyes fondly. "No wonder you had such a reputation."

"You shouldn't believe everything Felix tells you, he's always been my harshest critic."

"Ingrid told me."

Sylvain laughed. "Ah."

"Is it true that you always danced with all the prettiest girls?" Dimitri asked, half-envious of Sylvain, half-jealous of his partners long-past. 

"Every woman is beautiful," Sylvain said, looking almost surprised by the question. Then his expression turned wicked, voice dropping low. "But I didn't just dance with the girls, you know."

Sylvain's heavy gaze made warmth rush to Dimitri's face, deepening the flush caused by the wine he was drinking. "I wish that you and I had been at Garreg Mach together," he ventured. "I—should have liked to dance with you."

"I doubt I'd have been courageous enough to dance with my Prince when I was your age," Sylvain said, his smile soft. "But, if you like, I'll dance with you now."

Dimitri brightened. "You will? Oh, but...we have no music."

"Have a little faith in me, lad," Sylvain said, getting to his feet. He pushed his chair in, then held his hand out to Dimitri, bowing low. "Would you do me the very great honour of dancing with me, Your Royal Highness?"

Heat washed over him; Dimitri usually hated such formality from his friends, but to hear Sylvain say such a thing to him now was oddly thrilling, as if they were playing characters, not themselves at all. He pushed back his chair and, taking Sylvain's hand, let the other man lead him from his seat to the open space between the table and the window. 

Humming softly, Sylvain bowed to him deeply, while Dimitri returned it with a more shallow bow of his own. Dimitri had only ever learned to lead while he danced, but he found it surprisingly easy and pleasurable to let Sylvain guide him, letting himself relax to the gentle waltz that Sylvain was humming. 

"You're an excellent dancer, Sylvain," Dimitri offered, as Sylvain led him effortlessly around the small space, making him feel almost weightless. 

Sylvain smiled, but didn't interrupt his own song to answer, and so they kept swaying and turning as one, Dimitri's hand secure in Sylvain's. 

When Sylvain's song came to an end, they stood staring into one another's eyes for several moments. Then Sylvain's hand on his hip pulled him closer, and Dimitri closed his eyes as he tipped his face up to Sylvain's. They kissed slowly, lacking the frenzy of their previous encounters, and Dimitri smiled when they parted.

"Sylvain," he whispered, his eyes still closed.

"Mm?" Sylvain hummed, pressing a kiss into Dimitri's hairline. 

Dimitri's stomach was in knots. "Those other things you did, besides dancing." He paused, touching his lip with his tongue. "Will you show me?"

—

By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Dimitri regretted that he hadn't taken another glass of wine before they came upstairs. At the door to Sylvain's bedroom, they paused, Sylvain turning and taking Dimitri's face between his palms.

"We don't have to do this," he said in a low voice. "And if we do, you can stop me at any time, alright?"

Dimitri felt as if he'd taken a running leap off a cliff, and he didn't want the dizzying feeling to end. He nodded solemnly, and Sylvain kissed his forehead again before turning to push open the door to his bedroom, leading Dimitri inside. 

It was the first time Dimitri had seen Sylvain's bedroom, although there was little enough to see with snow falling beyond the dark window, and the room lit only by the low fire. He glanced around him curiously for a moment, then he turned back to Sylvain, who was watching him closely, his bright, eager gaze betraying his calm exterior. 

"Please," Dimitri whispered. "Please kiss me."

Sylvain obliged him without a word, and here was the passion, the hunger that had been absent from their kiss downstairs. They made their way clumsily across to the bed, guided only by the light that came from the dying embers in the fireplace. Sylvain pressed him down into the sheets, and Dimitri moaned at the other man's weight over him, and shuddered when Sylvain gently nudged his chin aside and pressed kisses down the length of his throat. 

"O-oh, Sylvain," he gasped, clutching at Sylvain's shirt. "Please, please don't stop."

Sylvain hummed softly, then lifted his head, shaking his hair out of his eyes. "Do you know what you want to do?" he whispered, skimming his hand along Dimitri's side. "Or shall I lead tonight?"

Dimitri twitched, arousal bolting through him. "I trust you," he whispered. 

"Saints," Sylvain breathed, hot breath warming Dimitri's throat. He found Dimitri's hand, squeezing it firmly. "Promise me you'll tell me if you want me to stop."

"I promise," Dimitri said, though he privately hoped that Sylvain never would. 

"Let's get you more comfortable," Sylvain whispered, rolling to the side. He ran his hand over Dimitri's chest, then pulled at the hem of his shirt, tugging it free of his breeches. 

Dimitri hurried to help, and they both sighed in satisfaction when Sylvain slid his hand beneath the loosened shirt, fingers meeting the bare skin of Dimitri's stomach. Dimitri put his hand in Sylvain's hair again and bravely urged him down into a kiss, slipping his arm around Sylvain's shoulders as they fell into one another eagerly. It was like the kiss in the stables, hungry and desperate, and Dimitri shuddered when he felt Sylvain's knee slide between his thighs once more. This time he didn't try to hide his arousal, and his stomach seized and swooped with excitement when he felt Sylvain stiffening against his hip. 

"You're so beautiful," Sylvain murmured, sliding his hand higher, taking Dimitri's shirt with it. He shuffled down the bed and pressed his lips to Dimitri's bare stomach, grinning when the shock of his touch made Dimitri twitch and yelp. "Ticklish?"

"N-no—!" Dimitri yelped, lying through his teeth.

Sylvain didn't tickle him as he'd feared, instead he grasped Dimitri's hips more firmly and laid kisses over his stomach, his hip. Lifting his shirt, Sylvain kissed the centre of his chest, while Dimitri assisted him by tugging his shirt off the rest of the way. After a moment, Sylvain lifted his dark gaze to Dimitri's, smiling faintly, then he dragged his tongue over one of Dimitri's nipples. 

Dimitri whimpered, dropping his head back to the pillow. His face was on fire, his cock aching in his underwear. 

Sylvain's laughter huffed against his bare skin, then he did it again, this time moving his tongue more slowly, and circling it around the stiffening bud of his nipple. Just as Dimitri thought he couldn't be more aroused—or embarrassed—Sylvain closed his lips around it and sucked, and Dimitri gave a startled cry. Sylvain lifted his head, a smirk playing around his mouth. "Are you alright?"

Whimpering, Dimitri covered his face. "Please—don't stop."

Laughing again, Sylvain skimmed his hand over Dimitri's bare chest, then applied his lips softly to his untouched nipple. 

"Nn," Dimitri moaned, arching against him. "Sylvain…"

"You're so sensitive," Sylvain murmured in an approving tone. He made his way back up to Dimitri's mouth, and pulled him closer as they kissed again, hand moving down to grip Dimitri's thigh and hitch it up against his hip. 

Dimitri whimpered again as the position brought his lower half into close contact with Sylvain, leaving him no chance of escape. Before he could even contemplate it, Sylvain moved against him, slowly driving their hips together more tightly, and Dimitri groaned into the sloppy kiss. "Is it bad?" he asked belatedly.

Sylvain responded with a curious hum. 

"That I'm—sensitive," Dimitri explained.

"Oh," Sylvain said, laughing softly. "No, Mishka, it's lovely." He skimmed his fingertips along Dimitri's side, and smiled when it made him shiver. "It's like walking in fresh snow." He paused, then grimaced. "Forgive the analogy."

Dimitri wrinkled his nose. "I'm not sure Felix would approve of your wording."

"Why should my horse care about it?" Sylvain asked, his expression deadpan.

Dimitri stared at him for several seconds, then he crumpled with laughter, pressing his face into Sylvain's neck. The two of them clung to one another as they giggled helplessly. Their amusement dispelled the lingering awkwardness between them, and as they pressed against one another, their closeness began to dispel the amusement, until they were both breathing hard and moving against one another slowly. Not daring to speak, worried that he might break the spell, Dimitri clutched at Sylvain's arms as he ground his erection against Sylvain's hip. 

Sylvain caught him in a kiss again, cupping his hand around the back of Dimitri's neck, holding him as he worked a hand between them and began to unfasten Dimitri's trousers. 

Dimitri's gasp spilled against Sylvain's lips, his fingers gripping Sylvain's arms more tightly. "Sylvain—!"

"Shh," Sylvain soothed, pressing a kiss to the corner of Dimitri's mouth. He slid his hand into Dimitri's clothing and curled it around his cock. 

"O-oh," Dimitri gasped, pressing his face into Sylvain's shoulder. 

Sylvain turned and kissed his temple. "Alright?"

Dimitri nodded frantically, hips pressing forward, silently begging Sylvain to touch him. He kept his face hidden as Sylvain stroked him slowly, chest heaving. A few strokes were enough to bring him to his peak, and he tried to utter a warning, but too late. He gave a low groan as he spilled over Sylvain's hand, heat and shame washing over him the aftermath. 

"Oh—oh, I'm sorry, I—" 

Sylvain shushed him again gently, kissing his cheek. "No need to apologise, cub," he murmured, carefully extracting his hand from Dimitri's damp underwear. He pulled off his shirt and used it to wipe his hand, before tossing the soiled clothing behind him. "Are you alright?"

Dimitri nodded. "I've never—" He blushed furiously. "It is not usually—that _quick_."

Sylvain laughed softly. "That's alright," he said, gazing back at Dimitri, his smile lazy. "It can be overwhelming, doing it with another person."

"Truly?" Dimitri whispered, eyes wide. "I have not...embarrassed myself?"

"Not in the slightest," Sylvain assured him. He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Dimitri's ear, a faint smile on his face. 

"May I…" Dimitri whispered, his courage failing him before he could finish the thought. Instead, he moved his hand down between them and tentatively brushed his fingers against Sylvain's cock. 

Sylvain inhaled sharply. "Why don't we get under the covers?" he suggested.

Dimitri nodded, and together they shuffled out of their remaining clothing, Dimitri shedding his damp underwear with relief, then climbed beneath the bedclothes. As they settled, Sylvain held out his arm. His shyness melting from him, Dimitri curled himself into Sylvain and let out a contented sigh. As Sylvain drew him close, his chest hair tickled Dimitri's cheek, putting a smile on his face. 

"It's good to see you so untroubled for once, cub," Sylvain said, his voice soft and low as he gently brushed Dimitri's hair back from his face. 

Dimitri smiled up at him. "It is all thanks to you." He moved his hand over Sylvain's chest, fingers trailing through the soft hair, then slid it lower. "Can I—?"

Sylvain took his hand and guided it lower, his chest hitching slightly when he closed Dimitri's fingers around his cock. "Saints," he breathed, turning his head to press a kiss into Dimitris hair. "That's it, like that."

Biting his lip, Dimitri squeezed his fingers a little tighter, moving his hand a touch faster. Sylvain's cock was bigger than his own, though not by much, and mostly in girth. It was fascinating to touch someone else this way, and heat spilled down his throat again as he stroked him slowly. 

Groaning low in his chest, Sylvain tightened his arm around Dimitri and ducked his head to seek his mouth, kissing him hard. Dimitri returned it hungrily, moaning when Sylvain's tongue plunged into his mouth. He kept working his fist, picking up his pace as he and Sylvain kissed, until Sylvain broke from him suddenly with a low moan. Dimitri looked down in surprise when he felt Sylvain spill over his fist, his spend startlingly hot, covering his fingers and running down to his wrist. 

"O-oh," Dimitri whispered, lifting the bedclothes to peer down at him. "There's so much."

Sylvain laughed weakly. "It's been a long time."

Dimitri swallowed. "You do not...take your own pleasure?" he whispered, the shame of his earlier indiscretion in the bath returning to him.

"Of course," Sylvain said, giving him a conspiratorial grin. "But it's been a very long time since I had company in my bed."

"How long?" Dimitri asked without thinking. His face flushed at Sylvain's raised eyebrows. "Forgive me, that was rude."

Sylvain laughed. "I don't mind. Several years, if I remember right."

"Don't you miss it?"

Sylvain raised his eyebrow again. "The pleasure, or the company?"

Dimitri bit his lip. "I don't know. Either one."

"I suppose it can get lonely here," Sylvain admitted. "Why do you think I spend so much time in Fhirdiad?"

"Then...you have— _company_ in Fhirdiad?"

Sylvain grinned. "Only you, cub."

Warmth flushed Dimitri's face again, and he finally recalled himself enough to draw his hand away from the sticky mess he'd left on Sylvain's belly. "I should wash," he whispered, and slipping out of the bed, he crossed to the basin in the corner where he quickly washed his hand and also the mess on his own belly. When he turned back, Sylvain was wiping himself off with his discarded shirt once more, before drawing the bedclothes back up. Dimitri hesitated, unsure if he was still welcome.

"You'll freeze over there," Sylvain murmured, lifting the covers for him.

Shivering with anticipation and pleasure, Dimitri hurried over and got into the bed again. He cuddled up close to Sylvain, laughing under his breath when Sylvain complained about his icy cold feet. "Can I stay here?" Dimitri whispered into Sylvain's chest.

Sylvain nodded. "Mm. 'Course."

Dimitri gave a pleased hum and hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Sylvain."

—

Just as he had the previous nights that they shared a bed, Dimitri woke in the morning feeling comfortable and well-rested. This time he woke up pressed against Sylvain's back, his cock achingly hard and wedged against Sylvain's backside. At first Dimitri tensed, wondering how to make his retreat, but then the previous night rushed back to him in a flush of heat and hunger. Unconsciously, Dimitri tightened his loose grip around Sylvain's waist, and pressed up tighter against him. He started to rock his hips, grinding against him slowly. He wasn't sure if this was allowed, but he felt too good to stop.

After a minute or so, Sylvain stirred, clearing his throat gently. Dimitri froze, but Sylvain just reached for Dimitri's hand, moving it down to his hardening cock. "Don't stop," he mumbled, voice thick and rough.

Dimitri shuddered, but did as Sylvain suggested, continuing to grind up against him slowly. 

"That's it," Sylvain said in a low voice, pressing back against him. 

Dimitri loosed a moan against Sylvain's shoulder. "Sylvain," he groaned, pressing his forehead between Sylvain's shoulder blades.

"Mishka," Sylvain said, his voice rich with satisfaction. He put his hand behind him, touching the small of Dimitri's back, then sliding it down to cup his backside. "Mm...will you let me try something?"

"W-what?" Dimitri murmured, mind fuzzy with sleep and arousal. "O-of course, anything."

Sylvain made another satisfied noise, then he moved away from Dimitri, slipping out of his grasp and turning onto his belly. He paused, giving Dimitri a sunny smile. "Good morning, beautiful."

Heat tore across Dimitri's face, but before he could stammer a reply, Sylvain was leaning in to kiss him. Pale light stole in through the curtains, so that when Sylvain pulled back, the thin daylight spilled over his face. His eyes were bright with amusement and interest, the faint lines around his eyes softened in the filtered light. His mouth was pink and tempting. Where the bedclothes had slipped, the bulk of his chest was visible, showing off the strength and softness he carried in tandem. 

"G-good morning," Dimitri managed, unable to tear his gaze from Sylvain's handsome face.

Sylvain treated him to another lopsided grin. "Lay on your back," he murmured, leaning over to nip Dimitri's bottom lip, before sliding down the bed. 

Dimitri did as he was told, then gave a whimper as Sylvain took his feet and pushed his knees up to his chest.

"What are you doing?" Dimitri asked, wincing when his voice squeaked. 

Sylvain flashed him a filthy grin, sliding himself between Dimitri's thighs. "Trying something," was all he said, before applying his mouth to Dimitri's cock.

Dimitri threw his head back with a wordless cry, seizing handfuls of the bedclothes. Despite his inexperience, he wasn't entirely unworldly. He'd spent enough time around soldiers, not to mention his uncle, to understand at least some of what went on in the bedroom, but he was still shocked by the reality of Sylvain's soft mouth around his cock, of the beard scraping his thighs. The heat and pressure were overwhelming, and Dimitri clung onto the sheets for dear life, desperately willing himself to hold out longer than he had the previous night.

The sounds that Sylvain was making beneath the bedclothes were obscene. When Dimitri lifted the covers with one shaking hand, Sylvain glanced up at him and winked, his mouth still tight around Dimitri's cock. Dimitri made a helpless, urgent sound in his throat and let his head fall back again. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to will down the wave that was building in him. 

Sylvain pulled off briefly, using his fingers to stroke Dimitri's cock, cupping his testicles with the other hand and squeezing gently. "You can spend in my mouth," he murmured, lowering his head to mouth at the head of Dimitri's cock. "Just let me know when you're close."

Dimitri managed a whimper, but he didn't have time to speak before Sylvain's lips closed around him again. Before he knew it he was spilling over the edge with a muttered warning, fingers clenching tightly in the sheets, pulling hard enough that he felt them tear. 

Sylvain eased him down, holding Dimitri's cock in his mouth for several moments after he'd finished, until the sensation became overwhelming and Dimitri flinched away. 

"Oh," Dimitri sighed, staring unseeing at the canopy of the bed. "Oh, Saints."

Sylvain's laughter bubbled up from beneath the covers, then the man himself appeared, flopping down beside Dimitri once more. "That good?"

Dimitri covered his face briefly. "I—I didn't know it could feel like that," he said in a small voice. Pulling his hands away, he chanced a sheepish look at Sylvain. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me, cub," Sylvain said, still beaming at him. "I enjoy doing it."

Dimitri's eyes widened. "You—you do?"

Sylvain nodded. 

"Could I—" Dimitri ventured, pausing to wet his bottom lip. "Would you let me try?"

"If you like," Sylvain murmured, the corner of his mouth tilting in the mischievous smile that Dimitri was so fond of. "But I really ought to bathe, especially after the mess we made last night." He grinned, finding Dimitri's hands beneath the bedcovers and linking their fingers. "Why don't you join me?"

"Oh," Dimitri said, shivering with pleasure. "I'd like that."

—

They spent the rest of the morning lazing about together, first in the bath, then back in bed. Dimitri seemed to have an insatiable hunger now that they'd begun, and kept dragging Sylvain back into bed each time he tried to rise. 

At noon they finally left the bedroom to seek something to eat. Dimitri ate his lunch ravenously, while Sylvain watched him with a fond smile, eating his own meal at a more leisurely pace.

After lunch, they took a long walk in the waning sunlight. There hadn't been any fresh snowfall that day, but it was still far too cold for the drifts to begin to melt. There was little to see, the landscape mostly barren and white, with the dark, forbidding mountains rising to the North. They walked mostly in silence, but the quiet was comfortable. 

Twilight finally began to draw near, the tired, red sun sinking to the horizon. Sylvain clambered up on top of a snowy bank, pulling Dimitri up after him, and the two of them sat and watched as the sun seemed to hang on the horizon, caught there like a fish on a line, before suddenly dropping out of view, leaving the sky stained in its absence. 

Dimitri leaned back against Sylvain, whose arms tightened around him. "Sylvain?"

"Yes, Mishka?" Sylvain murmured, nuzzling the back of his neck.

"Those stories you read to me, are any of them true?"

Sylvain laughed softly. "Of course they are, in their own way."

Dimitri hummed. "But did they really happen?"

"I'm sure some of them did," Sylvain said evenly. "As for the rest, well. Only you can choose what you believe, Mishka."

It was the kind of answer only Sylvain could have given, and Dimitri couldn't help smiling as he turned it over in his mind. "Will you tell me another story?" he asked eventually, when all the colour had almost drained from the sky. 

Sylvain made a thoughtful sound. "What kind of story would you like to hear?"

Dimitri cuddled closer to him. "Tell me a story about home."

There was a pause, then Sylvain cleared his throat and began to speak.

**Author's Note:**

> [find me on twitter](https://twitter.com/notallbees/status/1342827602470461440) | [read my dimivain fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=33818383&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&fandom_id=23985107&user_id=notallbees)
> 
> As a reminder you see Frog's accompanying art 


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